This Ain't a Dream
by ScaleThornWolf
Summary: Crossover of two similar shows. Seeing the dead come to life to eat the living is most likely a nightmare caused by some bad drugs. Waking up in a hospital to find that it's not drug related, and actually having to survive in this living nightmare? That's something else entirely. Rated T for blood and violence. Ch. 13 being edited, writing for Ch 14 is currently in progress
1. Prologue

A lone police car slowly came to a stop on the abandoned Georgia road, the back trunk clicked and opens. On the driver's side a police officer steps out, he glances briefly at an overturned truck before heading to the back of the car to pull out a red gas can and heads toward the gas station.

The passenger side door opens and a young man steps out, he surveys his surroundings with eyes like that of a startled deer, noticing the officer is already halfway on the other side of the road and runs to catch up with him. He doesn't want to be left here by himself.

"I have a sinking feeling that there's not gonna be any gas here," he tells the officer as they pass another car, a human corpse with a gaping hole in its forehead. He grimaces and pulls the collar of his T-shirt over his nose in an attempt to block out the smell.

"Don't say that," the officer replies as the gas station comes closer into view, "besides, you don't know unless you actually try." His lips sink into a disappointed frown when he sees a little sign hanging by the pumps.

NO GAS

The young man behind him smirks, "See, what I tell you? No gas." He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation. "We could…we could continue driving and find some gas in a hou-"

The officer cuts him off with a shush, "Did you hear that?"

Both of them listen, straining their ears detect the slightest of sounds…There it was! It sounded like feet scuffing along the concrete. They both slowly get down on his hands and knees, looking under the car to see pair of slipperd feet shambling by most likely belonging to a child; they stop at a stuffed bear and a hand reaches down to pick it up, the feet resume their walking.

The officer gives a hopeful gasp, gets up and quickly runs around the car to grab the kid's attention. His companion jumps up after him.

"Rick," he hisses, "Rick wait! Get back here!" he reaches out to grab the officer's arm. The officer, now dubbed Rick, shrugs him off.

It's a girl; her back is turned to both of them. Rick calls out to her in calm voice.

"Little girl? I'm a policeman" the girl stops walking, Rick takes a few steps towards her only to be pulled back by the young man behind him. Rick pushes him off again, "Nick stop it, cut it out."

The young man, Nick, gives up and stands back several paces, he knew this girl wouldn't be able to help them. The familiar bruised ashy colored skin had told him enough. _He'll learn, he'll learn to tell the difference…if he survives._

"Look don't be afraid, okay?" Rick reaches out reassuringly, "Little girl."

She turns around, blood spattered on her robe and pajama top. Her eyes pale and lifeless, a small gash on the right side of her forehead, and half her face ripped away to reveal her gums and braced teeth.

Rick gives a disappointed sigh and lets his hand drop back to his side.

The dead girl lets out a growl and slowly walks towards them. Rick curses and pulls out his revolver. Before it can even break into a run he pulls the trigger.

* * *

 **AN: Got this idea for a crossover of these two shows after having a conversation with how the series might be different if the FTWD somehow became part of TWD. It's just a standalone introductory chapter for now, I will upload more later if you want to see more.**

 **Been in a bit of a slump with writing so I thought doing a crossover of the two shows that I have been obsessing over for the past few months.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Thank you for the support my fellow readers. I would have uploaded sooner but life got in the way.**

 **I tried to include all of Episode 1 into this chapter but then I realize that it would take FOREVER considering the fact that the pilot episode is practically an hour long as compared to the regular 30-40 minute runtime of the regular episodes. So to save myself the headache of writing down every part of the first episode all into one chapter (and your waiting for the next upload), I've decided to break it down into parts and omit a few things here and there that I don't really think is needed to advance the story. (Like the car shootout for example and the beginning part of Shane and Rick's conversation about "The Difference Between Man and Women")**

 **It may take a while for me to write/type out the next part of this crossover considering that real life usually demands that I give it the most attention first and writing is put on the bottom of the list.**

* * *

Shane was pretty sure Rick's question was just a conversation starter, and with the conversation well slowly drying up he decides to keep it going. It was better than just sitting in the car and eating in silence.

"So how's it with Lori, man?"

"She's good. She's good at turning off lights, really good. I'm the one who sometimes forgets."

"Not what I meant."

Rick gives a short sigh before continuing, "We didn't have a great night."

"Hey look, man, I may have failed to amuse you with my sermon, but I did try. The least you could do is speak."

"That's—that's what she always says" Rick returns before imitating Lori's voice in a whisper "Speak, speak," he shakes his head. "You'd think I was the most closed mouth son of a bitch ever to hear her tell it."

"Do you express your thoughts? Do you share your feelings, that kind of stuff?"

It's quiet in the car before Shane gets an answer.

"The thing is. Lately whenever I try, everything I say makes her impatient, like she didn't want to hear it after all. It's like she's pissed at me all the time and I don't know why."

Shane shrugs, "Look, man. That's just shit that couples go through. Yeah, it's a phase."

Rick scoffs before speaking in a serious tone, "The last thing she said this morning, 'Sometimes I wonder if you even care about us at all'"

He pauses to give his friend a serious look, "She said that in front of our kid…Imagine going to school with that in your head. The difference between men and women? I would never say something that cruel to her…and certainly not in front of Carl."

Before Shane could think of something to at least say to Rick the police radio beeps and the dispatcher's voice is heard.

"All available units, high speed pursuit in progress. Linden County units request local assistance. Highway 18 eastbound. GTA, ADW, 2-17, 2-4-3. Advise extreme caution."

Shane picks up the scraps of their meal while Rick starts the engine.

ϪϪϪ

Something wasn't right, Nick could feel it. He wasn't sure if it was just waking up from a trip, the cool air of the church, or the eerie silence of the place occasionally being broken by loud bangs and clatters. All he knew was that he just felt the need to get the hell outta here, but he wasn't leaving without Gloria.

The old stairs were cold under his bare feet, he forgot to put on his shoes but it he was already halfway down the hallway. Something on the broken piano or keyboard or whatever it was caught his eye.

 _Is that…blood?_ He pushes the thought to the back of his mind. _We need to get out of here._

Carefully making his way down the hall he notices somebody slouched in a corner under a flickering light. He thought it must have been someone who passed out the night before; he peeks around the corner and wishes he hadn't.

The person wasn't passed out, he was dead. His throat ripped open by what might have been an animal (but he was pretty sure it might have been someone going through a bad trip), blood spattered all over the wall, eyes clouded and lifeless. A bloody smear along the wall to his right sent shivers down his spine as he entered the next room. He needed to find Gloria and he needed to get out of here NOW.

"Gloria" he hissed, trying not to panic. His breathing became more rapid, his hart racing faster and faster as he searched the pews. There she is! Her back was turned to him and she seemed to be eating something off the floor like a dog.

"Gloria, look we gotta go." He reached out to grab her away from whatever the hell she was doing. He wasn't expecting the horrifying scene that played out before him.

Her head snapped up to reveal that she wasn't eating some _thing_ , she was eating some _one_! And now that person's blood was all over the floor, her hands, her shirt, and her face. A knife was stuck between her ribs, most likely belonged to the same person lying on the floor right now.

What happened next was a blur, he mind screamed at him to get out and run, Run, RUN! Run and leave this horrible nightmare behind him, and hope the nightmare wouldn't follow. His mind was screaming so loud in his ears that he didn't notice what happened next, didn't notice people yelling at him to get off the road, didn't notice the wail of police sirens getting louder and louder, and he didn't notice the car speeding straight towards him; showing no signs of slowing down or swerving.

He didn't realize what was going on or where he was, not until the wind was viciously knocked out of his lungs and his head smacked against the concrete plunging everything into black.


	3. Chapter 2

**Thank you fellow followers, you gave me the inspiration to keep trying.**

 **I will work on getting the next chapter up as soon as I can. But for now, please enjoy**

* * *

Silence, that's Nick all could hear when he came to. No cars, no hum of air conditioning, nothing. Just silence and a tiled ceiling, the clock on the wall had stopped and the lights were off, the only light in the room was coming from the window to his right. He took note of his surroundings….was he in a hospital?

 _How'd I get here? Am I tripping on laced shit? No, no I'm not I just...don't remember._

He pushed himself up into an upright sitting position. He growled and racked his brain for anything that sounded familiar. He knew there was a reason as to _why_ he was here he just didn't remember…something about a car and a dead body.

The sound of movement behind a curtain to his left snapped him out of his thoughts. Someone was in here. He heard whoever it was fall to the floor. A dry raspy voice called out for a nurse, there was no answer. Where were the nurses?

Curiosity was now starting to gnaw at him like a starving animal, urging him to get up and investigate. He heard the stranger get back up and start walking, a door opened somewhere in the room and sound of water from a faucet was heard. He managed to catch a glimpse of who it was on the other side of the room but it was only a glimpse.

Carefully getting up on shaky legs he inched closer towards his unknown roommate. It was a man, probably in his late twenties or mid-thirties, wearing a hospital gown with a bandage of some sort on the left side of his torso. He didn't see Nick; the man was too busy drinking the water pouring out of the faucet. The stranger must have noticed that someone was watching him because he quickly got up and both of them were looking at each other straight in the face.

"I don't know, don't ask me. I just woke up." Nick whispered

The older gentleman nodded for a while before giving a dry "Okay," and turning towards and opening the door that lead out of the room. Who the hell placed a bed in front of the door?

The hallway was a mess, the lights were off, papers were scattered about the place and there was no one in sight. They both made their way to what might have been the front desk? Phone didn't appear to work. The man started rifling through piles of charts and papers to pull out a small box of matches.

A flickering light in the hallway to the right caught Nick's attention. He walked over and peered through the glass. Something was on the other side of those doors, but with the light flickering on and off, it was hard to see. He took a closer look and recoiled in horror. It was a woman, or what was left of her. Her body was badly mangled and disfigured that the only part recognizable was her face, she looked like the remains of an animal carcass after the wolves had been at it.

 _What is going on here? What the fuck is happening?_

The gentleman was on the other side of the hallway looking at a pair of huge doors. Not wanting to be left in this dark hallway with a corpse, Nick shambled after him. As he got closer he noticed bullet holes and blood trailing along the walls. Standing next to the stranger he saw something had been written on the doors, they had been barricaded and chained with a heavy padlock. It made his head spin, but he didn't know why.

DON'T DEAD

OPEN INSIDE

"Don't dead, open inside"? What was that supposed to mean. Before Nick could even get the chance to ask, what sounded like furniture being moved around was heard. It was coming from behind the doors. They opened a little, and then they slammed against the chains that held them closed. Both men staggered back a little, unsure of what to do.

The doors stopped slamming and a moan was heard. Their breath caught in their throats. A pair of pale hands with long uneven fingernails slowly crawled out, the fingers stretching and curling as if trying to grab something. A hiss that sounded like a death rattle emanated from the gap and then it all came flooding back to him.

The church, the blood, the bodies, Gloria, the car! It all flashed before his eyes like a terrifying LSD trip, only it wasn't an LSD trip.

" _It was real. I wasn't seeing things, it wasn't the shit…it was all real"_

"Don't dead, open inside" No, it was "Don't Open, Dead Inside" The dead were in there because they were alive again, and they had to be put in there or they'd eat people! They—Nick snapped out of his thoughts, dragged his acquaintance away from those wretched doors and half ran half stumbled towards the nearest elevator only to find them out of order. They'd have to take the stairs.

He trip down the stairs was dark and terrifying. Nick was so scared of losing his only source of light and human contact; he clung to the man's hospital gown as if he were a frightened child. The walk down the stairs seemed to take forever and the matches never lasted long enough. What if they ran out of matches before they found the exit? They'd be stuck here forever, unable to go forward or back, trapped in darkness forever.

A sudden burst of sunlight seared away the terrifying thought in Nick's head, and his retinas. He squinted his eyes as they adjusted themselves to the brightness of the outside and he carefully made his way down the stairs. What they saw next was horrifying.

Bodies, there were bodies everywhere. Most of them wrapped up in white sheets, laid out in rows along the walls, some of them had tarps draped over them leaving their feet or hands sticking out, others were piled up on trucks, most of them had the sheets torn off over the faces to reveal ghastly half rotted skulls with signs of a head-shot or a stab taken to the cranium, some of them even had their skulls crushed in. The air was thick and heavy with the stench of decay.

It must have taken a miracle for them to walk past the military outpost on the top of the hill.

ϪϪϪϪ

Nick wasn't sure why he was following this man. Maybe it was due to some primitive herding instinct, maybe it was because he would know where to find the answers as to what the hell was going on in this world, maybe it was out of need for human contact. Either way, following him seemed like a better option than wandering the streets alone.

He didn't ask for a name. He didn't think it would be a good time to ask, the man looked like he was in too much shock to even hold a conversation. He did catch part of his name off the band around his wrist. It said "Grimes, R…", Grimes must be his last name. Mr. Grimes sounded like an odd name…he'd just personally refer to him as R for now.

R spots a bicycle and a half blown corpse of a human torso on the grass. He makes a beeline towards the bike, better than walking all the way home. Before he can even reach down to stand it upright Nick pulls him away. The torso rolls over to reveal that it's not any dead body, but an undead body snarling and dragging itself towards the two. R scrambles back in shock and picks up his pace towards a nearby neighborhood.

ϪϪϪϪ

"Lori!" Rick called out as he staggered through the front door. Where was Lori? He finds their bedroom empty, the dressers emptied of their contents.

His son, where is he? "Carl? Carl!"

 _No! No, no, no they can't be gone! "Lori! Carl!"_ he screams before breaking into sobs.

" _Lori! Carl!" where are you?_

He touches the wood floor of the living room. It's real; he can feel it beneath his hand.

"Is this real? Am I really here?" he smack himself on the head several times _"Wake—wake up"_

He doesn't wake up. It's real, all of it. He slowly get up and makes his way to the door, not noticing the teenager sitting off in a corner with a look of shock on his face and blank eyes staring at the floor.

His mind is still in a daze when he sits on the steps to his house. He waves to a man down the street but the man doesn't wave back. He turns his head to address the sound of a snapping twig only for something to collide right in his face.

The last thing he remembers before blacking out is saying Carl's name, and hearing someone screaming, "Oh my god! Oh my god, what did you do!?"

* * *

 **A/N: Forgot to mention: the term "shit" is an old term from the 80's that is often used to refer to heroin**

 **Also, a "death rattle" is a slang term used to refer to the sound made by a person as they die. It's often the result of air passing through or over the mucous membranes in the throat or larynx (voicebox). Some people who have overdosed on opioids or other depressants often make this sound when they are seemingly "asleep" and can easily be mistaken for a snore by people unfamiliar with the situation**


	4. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone, sorry for the late update but I am proud to present to you the newest chapter of TAaD.**

 **I've spent a lot of time on this in between work and personal life stuff and I have sacrificed many hours of sleep to ensure that I finish this in a timely manner. This chapter is like 9 pages long on my Microsoft Word file and took over three weeks for me to complete.**

 **Because I live in America, I will be enjoying the holidays this week with my relatives so I really had to push myself into getting this chapter done on time before I completely forgot about it.**

 **I hope you enjoy reading the last chapter that consists of Episode 1 from TWD. I am planning to make the next chapter include all of Episode 2 rather than just breaking it down into separate parts, it will take longer for me to upload each chapter but I think it will be easier for me to keep track of chapters and save me from having to fast forward to where I left off in the show.**

* * *

Rick blinked his eyes open at the sound of footsteps. He was lying on a bed and noticed that his hands and feet had been restrained. The boy from earlier stood off to his left, a bat in hand. To his right was what he assumed to be the boy's father.

"Got that bandage changed now. It was pretty rank." He said as he snapped the rubber gloves off his hands before washing them.

"What was it, the wound?" he asked.

"Gunshot," was Rick's hoarse reply.

"Gunshot? What else, anything?"

"Gunshot ain't enough?" Rick returns with a small hint of sarcasm.

The man dries his hands, his tone becomes serious. "Look, I ask and you answer. Its common courtesy right?" he leans closer towards Rick, "Did you get bit?"

"Bit?" Rick gives him a confused look. _What's he talking about?_

"Bit, chewed, scratched anything like that?"

"No, I got shot. Just shot as far as I know."

The man reaches over to feel his forehead; he glances over to his son and nods reassuringly.

"Feels cool enough, fever would've killed you by now. It'd be hard to miss" he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a knife. "You try anything, I will kill you with it and don't you think I won't."

He'd already given his friend a similar warning but it was better to be safe than sorry and make sure that both parties got the message. He cuts away the restraints.

"Come on out when you're able," he tells Rick before leaving the room.

ϪϪϪϪ

Nick couldn't help but tap his fingers against the table nervously. It was an old habit he developed whenever he got nervous or felt himself going through the early stages of withdrawal. He had already gotten acquainted with Duane and Morgan but he still felt on edge for some reason

He noticed that R, no, Rick; he finally got a chance to see the full name on the little wristband, was up and moving around the empty front room. He reached towards the makeshift blackout screen covering the window.

"Don't do that," Morgan warned him, "They'll see the light. There are more of them out there than usual." Rick walks away from the windows.

"I never should've fired that gun today. Sound draws 'em and now they're all over the street. Stupid—using a gun. But it all happened so fast, I didn't know what to think."

Rick takes a step closer to the table, "You shot that man today."

Nick scoffs. _He still doesn't get it._ "Dude, you need glasses. That wasn't a man it was a walker." Rick looks at him, it was probably the first time he ever heard him talk.

Morgan dishes out what might have been canned beans onto a plate, "Come on, sit down before you fall down."

Duane speaks up, "Daddy, blessing."

 _Blessing? Did these people really think that a higher power was still looking out for them? I get it if it keeps you going through the day but still._

Nick never really believed in a higher power but if it helped them sleep at night then he'd have to accept it. Rick hesitantly takes his right hand while Duane takes the left. The blessing Morgan gives sounds pointless but he's still mindful to say "Amen" when he finishes. Nobody likes a rude guest.

"Do either of you know what's going on?" Morgan asks Rick.

"I woke up today, in the hospital. Came home, that's all I know."

"But you know about the dead people, right?"

Yeah, I saw a lot of that—out on the loading dock, piled in trucks."

Morgan shakes his head, "No, not the ones they put down. The ones they didn't, the walkers. Like the one I shot today. 'Cause he'd have ripped into you, tried to eat you, take some flesh at least."

Nick flinched he didn't like what he was hearing, and with the memory of what happened in the church slowly reemerging in his mind he beginning to lose his appetite.

"It's true," he murmured, catching everyone's attention. "I saw it happen…thought I was going crazy. Thought I was just tripping…but waking up today…I guess I was wrong." He poked at the food with the end of his fork, lost in thought.

Morgan nodded in understanding. "Well, we'll be fine as long as we stay quiet. Probably wander off by morning. But listen, one thing I do know: don't you get bit. Bites kill you, the fever burns you out but then after a while…you come back."

 _Don't get bitten. If you do you die and come back. Thanks man, I'll take that to heart._ Nick thought. _Sure bites will kill you, but what about those who didn't get bitten?_ He kept the thought to himself; he didn't say another word for the rest of the night.

ϪϪϪϪ

Taking a closer look at the interior of his house, a small portion of Rick's worries is eliminated. "They're alive, my wife and son. At least they were when they left"

"How can you know?" Morgan asks.

"I found empty drawers in the bedroom. They packed some clothes not a lot, but enough to travel."

"You know anybody could've broken in and stole them clothes, right?"

"You see any framed photos on the walls? I don't. You think some random thief took those too?" he turns to open an armoire cabinet, "Our photo albums, family pictures, all gone."

"Photo albums," Morgan laughs, painful memories coming back to play in his head again. "My wife…same thing. There I am packing survival gear, she's grabbing photo alb…" he pauses to regain his composure.

Duane speaks up, "They're in Atlanta I bet."

 _Atlanta?_ "Why there?"

"Refugee center," Morgan explains, "a huge one they said, before the broadcast stopped. Military protection, food, shelter, they told people to go there said it'd be safest."

"Plus they got that disease place." Duane added.

"The Center for Disease Control, said they were working out how to solve this thing."

Rick didn't need to hear anymore, if there was all that going on in the city then there would most definitely be a chance of finding Lori and Carl. He turns toward the key cabinet and grabs the keys to the prescient. Atlanta was a long drive away and running into a group of walkers without a weapon would be suicide.

ϪϪϪϪ

Seeing his reflection in the mirror for what might have been over a month, Nick felt like he was looking at someone else. He remembered hearing someone say that he looked like a corpse with his pale complexion…but that was when he was an addict.

" _Is this real? Is this really me? Am I still dreaming?"_ he whispers to himself.

He notices a small scab on the right side of his head, probably from where he hit the pavement from the car accident. He scratches it away, hoping that he was still dreaming and that the skin would peel away en masse to reveal his real reflection, like in that scene from _Poltergeist_. It doesn't happen, the skin just bleeds. Everything he sees confirms the truth: it's all real. He then realizes that not only does he look different, but he feels different too.

 _If mom could see me now…_

A knock on the door behind him jolts him out of his thoughts.

"Nick, you okay in there man?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's good Duane, just uh…be out in a few minutes" he stammers.

It's quiet on the other side of the door before he finally hears the sound of fading footsteps. He sighs and mentally berates himself for not being more aware before taking one last glance in the mirror and leaves the changing room.

ϪϪϪϪ

Rick wasn't too surprised to find that half of the gun cage had been cleared out. At least there were a few firearms with some ammunition left behind. He checks several shotguns before loading them into his gunbag.

"Daddy, can I learn to shoot? I'm old enough" Duane asked.

"Hell yes, you're gonna learn. But we've got to do it carefully, teach you to respect the weapon."

Rick nods in approval of Morgan's words, "That's right, it's not a toy. You pull the trigger, you have to mean it. Always remember that."

Duane nods in understanding, "Yes, sir"

* * *

Six shotguns, two high powered rifles, a dozen handguns, and 700 assorted rounds later, the gun cage had been stripped clean. With the need for weaponry out of the way Rick just needed to find transportation to get to Atlanta, good thing someone had been kind enough to leave their keys to one of the squad cars out back.

"Are you sure you don't want to come along with us?" Nick asks Morgan before he starts to load up Rick's car. It had already been decided that he would be going to Atlanta, if Rick's wife and son were there, then maybe his mother and sister would be there too.

"A few more days, by then Duane will know how to shoot and I won't be so rusty."

Rick thinks for a second before turning to grab a pair of walkie-talkies. He turns them on and hands one to Morgan.

"You've got one battery. I'll turn mine on a few minutes every day at dawn. You get up there, that's how you'll find me."

"Thank you, Rick. Oh, and listen one more thing. They may not seem like much one at a time, but in a group all riled up and hungry…man, you watch your ass."

"You too."

"You're a good man Rick, I hope you find your wife and son" he shakes his hand.

The sound of a growling hiss cuts their farewell short. Rick turns around to see a walker dressed in a disheveled police uniform shambling towards the fence…is that...?

"Leon Basset?

"Was he a friend of yours?" Nick asks.

Rick shakes his head, "I didn't think much of him—careless and dumb but, I can't leave him like this."

"You know they'll hear the shot, right." Morgan reminds him.

"Well then let's not be here when they show up."

ϪϪϪϪ

Things were quiet in the car since they left the abandoned gas station. They managed to make radio connection with someone but the signal was too weak and they quickly lost connection, they only had a quarter of a tank left and Atlanta was still a good hour and a half away. Nick shifted himself into a more comfortable position in the passenger's seat while looking out the window, lost in his own thoughts.

 _Are they still alive? Is Travis with them?...ugh, as much as I hate to say it but I hope he's okay. Jaysus, I hope he's not dead. Mom would be devastated. Is the rest of his family with—_

The sound of Rick's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, "So how'd it happen?"

" _How'd what happen?"_

Rick sighs, "You said last night that you saw this happen before. But when you woke up in the hospital that morning, you said you had no idea what was going on."

Oh yeah, he had forgotten about that. "I didn't remember what happened until my memory came back that night." He told Rick bluntly.

"What happened? Is that how you ended up in the hospital?"

Nick grows quiet and bites his lip. How the hell was he, a former addict supposed to explain his medical backstory to a cop without already damaging the man's perception of him? If he told Rick the truth he might not trust him anymore, think he'll just run off and screw up his life even more. But if he didn't tell then Rick might distrust him and question his every move.

Nick sighs, "Okay, I'll tell you what happened, but only if you promise not to tell anyone about this."

"Whatever you tell me will not leave this car; as long as you remain honest you will have my word."

It doesn't sound very reassuring to his ears, but a promise was a promise.

"Okay. So um, there's this old church my friends and I used to hang out at where you could um…do things." He pauses to look over at Rick. "Do…do I need to explain?"

"I understand. Please, continue."

"…Okay, um. Anyway I was with one of my friends…I think I nodded off after she did…And, when I woke up…she wasn't there, so I looked for her and…" he pauses to recollect his thoughts. _I think I might need a cigarette after this._

"I found her…with a knife…in her chest…and she was eating someone. There was blood and guts everywhere. You-you have to understand, Gloria is like 90 pounds soaking wet, th-th-there's no way she could just do that! N-not unless whatever I had was laced with like…PCP or some crazy shit and I thought I was still…going fucking crazy or something...I didn't know what to do so I ran. I didn't notice the car until it hit me. When I came to…I had no idea what had happened, I thought everything was still the same… until I saw what was behind those doors"

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose trying to regain his composure before the memories completely wash over him like a tidal wave. _Don't lose it, don't lose, don't you fucking dare break down and lose it!_

Rick gives a nod in silent understanding. "Thank you, for telling me the truth." He doesn't know why he said thank you or why he seems to understand what this boy is going through. But what he does know is that there was no lie in his voice, he could trust this kid…and he also knew that they were completely out of gas. Good thing there was a farmhouse not too far away. He slowly brings the car to a stop.

"Why are we stopping? We're not even near Atlanta yet."

Rick shuts off the ignition and pop the back trunk open, "We're out of gas," he explains as he tucks a family photo into the side pocket of his jacket, "Hopefully these people will have a little bit to spare for us." He grabs the gas can and walks towards the gravel driveway.

" _You think there are people in that house?"_ he asks, Rick doesn't seem to be listening, he grumbles to himself before trotting over to the officer's side. " _Rick seriously, I don't think there's anybody there."_

He's still not listening, he calls out several times but receives no answer. He makes his way towards the front porch and knocks on the door.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

No answer, he knocks again and peers inside the front windows. A tap on the shoulder grabs his attention. Nick shakes his head with a grim expression and points to a dusty window.

"They're dead," he bluntly tells him before pointing to something behind Rick's shoulder. "You don't think they'll mind us borrowing their car, do you?"

Rick turns around but doesn't see anything resembling a car. "Car, what car? All I can see is a bench and a table."

Nick groans in frustration. _How unobservant can you be? It's literally sitting right there at the end of the driveway._ _Anybody with eyes would have seen it from the road._ He grabs Rick by the hand and drags him towards the end of the driveway. Rick see's and old pickup truck slowly coming into view and it all makes sense. He rushes towards the driver's seat and searches for the keys.

Defeat washes over him when Rick comes back empty handed. Rick sits down on the bench rubbing his head in tired frustration. They have no gas, no one to help them, and no mode of transportation. How the hell were they supposed to get to Atlanta before nightfall now? Getting there seemed like an impossible dream now.

A soft nicker grabs their attention. In a small paddock by the oak tree was a horse grazing on the short overeaten grass…maybe this dream wouldn't be impossible.

ϪϪϪϪ

Rick could tell something wasn't right before they even entered Atlanta. The other side of the highway was completely back up with vehicles. Why would people be trying to leave a city when there was military protection with food and shelter already set up? Maybe he was just being paranoid; maybe it was just being on this horse for too long and its skittish behavior was starting to get to his head.

The city seemed completely empty, the quiet in the air only being broken by the sound of the horse's hooves making contact with the pavement as it walked. Signs that Atlanta had been abandoned became more evident as they made their way deeper into the city.

The horse suddenly whinnies and spooks as they pass a bus with missing windows. There are a few walkers inside and this was probably the first time the poor animal had ever seen something like this. The walkers shamble their way out of the bus, the horse grows more anxious. He hears Nick's breath hitch in his throat behind him and his grip tightens.

"It's okay," he tells both horse and boy in a reassuring tone, "There's just a few. Nothing we can't outrun." He urges the horse to pick up a trot.

They pass the body of a dead soldier lying on a tank; pair of crows are busy picking and feasting away at his flesh. He grimaces at the site before moving on. Amidst the sound of clicking hooves and cawing crows he hears something…was that a helicopter? He scans the sky to pinpoint the location, but it's hard to see with all the skyscrapers in the way. He spots it being reflected on the windows of a building towering before him, he kicks the horse into a gallop.

Now both men are preoccupied with keeping the helicopter in his sight that they don't notice the massive hoard of walkers right around the corner. Not until the horse whinnies and rears back in terror.

Nick curses, Rick spins the horse around and they take off down the road, the hoard following close behind. More walkers appear by the abandoned tank cutting off both escape routes.

"Oh shit," _We're trapped!_

The walkers close in around them like a swarm of ants, reaching and grabbing at both man and beast; every one of them intent on getting some of that delicious flesh in their mouths. The horse rears back as a walker grabs the reins, knocking both riders off its back and onto the street. The walkers pull the screaming animal down sinking their teeth into its flesh, the still conscious animal cries out in horrified pain and desperately thrashes about.

Before Rick can even scramble to grab the gunbag, Nick yanks him back just in time to avoid having his arm snapped on by a crawling corpse and shoves him towards the tank before crawling underneath it himself.

 _If we hide they might forget about us and go away._

Rick doesn't waste any more time thinking. He dives under the tank and kicks at a walker's face that's crawled after him and grabbed his shoe. Nick's hand dangles in front of him; he must have found an emergency hatch to the tanks interior; he grabs the outstretched hand and pulls himself up into the armored vehicle and shuts the door. Nick slams the top hatch down and collapses into a heap on the floor gasping for breath.

Rick backpedals away from the door until he hits a wall. Next to him is a dead soldier, his gun is missing from its holster and a gaping hole in the middle of his forehead.

"He….was…..I…shot him." Nick breathed between gasps. "There's nothing…we can do now. They won't leave until we…come out…or die...in here." He hangs his head in defeat and puts the barrel of his gun in his mouth.

 _I'm sorry mom, I tried. But nobody's going to save us here…it's probably better this way._ He turns the safety off with a trembling finger and tightly shuts his eyes. _Don't worry lil' sis, I'll tell dad you said hello._

Rick gets the idea and puts the barrel of his gun against his head.

 _Lori, Carl, I'm sorry._

Before either of them ca pull the trigger the sound of radio static breaks the silence. A voice on the other end of the radio comes on "Hey, hey you."

They lower their guns in stunned silence; someone was trying to contact them from inside the tank? Who?

"Hey, dipshits. Yeah, you guys in the tank. You cozy in there?"

.


	5. Chapter 4

**Hello everyone, I'm back!**

 **I tried to make this chapter a little different. (Not because I couldn't figure out how to word the dialogue and the progression of the plot of Episode 2 into a chapter)I decided to write this one because of a suggestion I received from a sibling and because I was in a festive mood during the holiday.**

 **I own nothing about this franchise except for the crossover idea**

 **Thank you Jack Daly for giving me the inspiration to change things up a little**

* * *

Alicia nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice crackle over the radio. She had grown so used to hearing nothing from that damn thing that she just assumed people had either heard of what happened in Atlanta or that this stupid group of people was all that was left of the world.

" _Hello. Hello. Can anybody hear my voice?"_ a voice crackled from the radio.

She dropped the firewood she had helped Amy collect and rushed over to the radio.

"Hello? Hello?" she called into the mic.

" _Can you hear my voice?"_ the speaker on the other end returned.

"Ye-yes, I can hear you. You're coming through. Over."

" _If anybody reads, please respond."_

The speaker on the other end probably wasn't hearing them. Dale walks over as more people catch notice of the radio broadcast.

" _Broadcasting on emergency channel, will be approaching Atlanta on Highway 85. If anybody reads please respond."_

A chill runs down her spine. Highway 85? There were no signs on that road to warn people, they had no idea where their camp was.

"W-we're just outside the city…" radio static cuts her off. She curses and tries to readjust the frequency. "Hello? Hello?" There's no response.

Dale calls Shane over, "Come on son, you know best how to work this thing."

An axe slams down on the stump next to the radio, Alicia doesn't even flinch, she has grown used to the former cop's impulsive actions. He grabs the mic from her hand.

 _Uh, you're welcome_ she thought to herself sarcastically.

"Hello, hello. Is the person who called still on the air?" Shane asks into the mic. He's answered with nothing but static.

"This is Officer Shane Walsh broadcasting to person unknown please respond. Again, nothing but static, he gives up and tosses the mic aside. Whoever it was on the other end of the mic wasn't there anymore.

 _At least we now know we're not the only people left on this planet._

Lori's nagging voice breaks her out of her thoughts, "I've been telling you people, we need to put up signs on 85 to warn people away from the city."

"Well, we haven't had time." Shane counters.

"I think we need to make time." She snips

Alicia gets up and walks away. She doesn't want to hear this argument anymore. She's heard it too many times; she's heard it to many times from Shane, from Lori…fuck, she wished they'd just stop arguing and do something instead of sitting on their asses all day while everyone was working and trying to survive.

She wished Madison would get off her ass too. Sure she helped with things around camp, but it just didn't feel like she was doing enough. Ever since she lost connection with Travis she became quiet and withdrawn, the only time she ever talked was when she was asked for an opinion or when someone attempted to make small talk with her.

It got worse when they received news of her brother; they had been told that the hospital was doing a medevac on all the hospital patients where they'd be taken to Atlanta…it never happened. After that she just shut down and remained that way for days.

It was surprising really; Alicia thought Madison had completely stopped caring about him when she said she wouldn't care if Nick had been found dead or in a morgue one day. But after what happened with the car and the world starting to go to shit, something just snapped inside her head. She cried for days when she learned that her son was never coming back and to be honest, Alicia felt the same way too.

But she didn't have time to grieve, she had to survive. And the only way she knew how was to be useful and stay prepared. That's what Tobias had told her, just focus on staying one step ahead and let her mother sort things out herself. Which eventually she did, but not in a way that Alicia would have preferred.

She became more…motherly in way. She started to see and treat Tobias, the only person who knew what was going on from the start and help the Clark family survive this long, as part of their family. She helped the other mothers with their children and she always eagerly accepted Lori's offers to watch Carl while she went off doing who knows what.

It pissed her off, seeing Madison watch over Carl like he was her own son. Carl is _Lori's_ son; he is _Lori's_ responsibility, not hers. Nick is dead, he's not coming back, and raising Carl as if he were _her son_ is not going to make anything better, it wouldn't turn back time or make him come back from the dead, it would just start the fire for an inevitable argument over parenting between the two widowed mothers.

As much as Alicia wanted to argue with her mother about it, she knew it would be as pointless as talking to a brick wall. But as much as she secretly missed her screwed up older brother and felt the overwhelming need to cry, she knew she couldn't give in to that luxury. That was then and this is now. Now there were meals that needed to be made, laundry to be washed, firewood that needed to be gathered, lots of other things had to be done rather than sitting around grieving over lost family.

ϪϪϪϪ

Seeing Rick reuniting with his wife and son made Nick feel a little jealous. Everyone here had reunited with friends, family, and loved ones. Here, he was all alone, no familiar face to greet him, no happy smiles, no warm embraces from relieved family members, no Madison, no Alicia, nobody from the Manawa family, nothing.

The feeling of jealousy was soon replaced with pangs of painful loneliness when he caught sight of Rick embracing his son. Nick sighs and wishes he could have experienced something like that six year ago with _his father_.

Jaqui notices him hanging back away from the group. She excuses herself and walks over to him; she takes a hold of his arm. Nick tries to shrug her off but she persists.

"Why you hiding? Come say hello."

"N-no, no, I-I don't want to spoil everyone's reunion."

"You're not spoiling anything, come on" she insists despite his protests as she leads him towards the center of the campsite. He listens to her rattle off names and relations when he catches sight of a pair of women, an adult and a teenager possibly related, holding each other in a tight embrace, trying to hold back sobs of grief…was that…

His voice cracks, "Alicia? Mom?" _Impossible…am I still dreaming?_

They both look up from their embrace towards the sound of his voice, their eyes widen and they half stumble half run towards him with tears welling up in their eyes. All thoughts of him still dreaming where chased away when he feels their arms wrap around him in a tight embrace.

 _This isn't a dream. It's real, all of it…it's real. I finally found you._

* * *

 **A/N: I had originally decided that Nick would reunite with his mother and sister near the end of Season 5 but a sibling pointed out to me that it seemed too cruel to have him spend 2-3 years or so worrying about whether they're alive or dead so I decided to change things a little.**

 **Another reason is because it's the holiday season in America and the entire story can't just be all doom and gloom every chapter.**


	6. Chapter 5

**Hello everyone! Sorry for the late update. I had a difficult time trying to figure out how to start off this chapter which basically takes place during Episode 3 of TWD. Hope you enjoy the newest update of TAaD**

 **I own nothing except this fanfic's storyline**

* * *

Nick knew it would be pointless in trying to persuade Rick to allow him into going back for Merle and the gun bag in Atlanta. Sure he held some responsibility for convincing the man to handcuff the asshole to the roof in the first place but that was still no reason for him to go back because 1: He couldn't shoot worth a damn and 2: Shane's point of needing everybody to protect camp really hit home in his mind, and he didn't want to lose his family again.

He wasn't being selfish or cowardly for staying behind; he just didn't think that he would be of much help to Rick and the others if he went back with them. His sister begged him not to go back and he promised himself that he'd do whatever he could to ensure that Lori and Carl would still be alive when Rick returned. The man had done so much for him even though they were strangers when they first met; it only seemed fair that he try to return the favor…keeping an eye on Carl seemed like a good start.

ϪϪϪϪ

Seeing her son hanging around with the new Clark kid made Lori feel slightly uneasy for some reason. He gave off an odd vibe of suspicious alertness, he was jumpy and nervous whenever he sat still, he looked over his shoulder from time to time whenever he heard someone talking, he wouldn't let Madison or Alicia take his hoodie that he wore yesterday down to the lake for washing even though he didn't need it (and it was making him sweat like a freakin' heroin addict), and something about him being with Carl just seemed to say that he was a bad influence to children.

 _Maybe it's just that I don't know anything about him, then again I didn't even know she even_ had _a son until yesterday. Why didn't she ever tell me? Is she ashamed of him? Is that why she's so fond of my son, because she sees him as a replacement for the son she failed to raise properly?_

She shakes her head. _No, no, don't go jumping into conclusions. You don't know anything about this boy and neither does anybody else here unless Madison tells us._

But what if she asked? If she asked he'd have to give her an answer, and if he didn't give her an answer of if she felt like he was lying, she could simply ask his mother or sister for the truth. Yeah, yeah, she could do that, just ask. But she couldn't just ask him outright, she'd have to make them come up naturally, like in a conversation and somewhere where nobody would interfere… _gathering firewood in the forest, that sounded good enough. You weren't allowed to go anywhere by yourself and it'd be a good ploy to start a conversation._

"Uh, Mrs. Grimes you okay?"

He must have noticed her staring at him because she was still thinking it over to herself when he interrupted her thoughts.

 _Make it look natural, make it look natural._

"Yes, yes, everything's fine. I was just going to ask you if you could help me with a few things. Nobody's allowed to go outside of camp by themselves right now."

 _Was that natural enough?_

He blinks several times, trying to process the words in his brain, "But…what about Carl? Wh-who'll watch him?" he ask, pointing to the boy busy playing with his little toy cars.

"Oh Dale can watch him." The mention of his name brings the older man's attention from his position atop the RV, "Right Dale?"

Dale nods, "Of course, just don't wander off too far, both of you stay within shouting distance. If you see anything, holler. I'll come running."

She nods back to him and gestures to Nick to follow her; he does so with slight hesitation.

" _Just be calm, dude. Just be calm. She doesn't know anything about you and you don't know anything about her."_ She faintly hears him whisper to himself behind her back.

* * *

"Nick, that's poison ivy. We can't use that for the fire, and don't touch it it'll hurt you."

"Oh, okay, sorry." The young man apologizes timidly.

"You don't need to apologize, a lot of people don't know what poison ivy looks like," she picks up a fallen tree branch and adds it to her collection. "Sometimes Boy Scouts have a hard time remembering the difference."

He laughs "I'm not a Boy Scout, never been camping very much either."

"Oh, are you from the city then?"

"Sort of, I was born in California in the LA region and lived there till I was like 13. Moved here when I was 14 I think, then I uh…umm"

"And then what?"

 _And then what? I Battled depression for another year before giving up and spent the next four years circling the drain?_

"I umm, spent most of my time reading. Not like for school or anything, but just reading for personal amusement." Part of that was true, he did enjoy reading. But that was before he met Calvin. Old memories come into his mind; he smiles to himself and sighs longingly those were good times,

She smiles, "Sounds like you were quite the bookworm back then."

"Yeah, thought about doing something with literature when I got into college but it…just didn't work out with the world n' stuff."

Lori nods in understanding, "I see the world did ruin a lot of my plans too."

 _She thinks I'm referring to the world ending and not something else? Wow, I actually managed to tell a lie without having to give away too much information that would lead to more questions. Awesome!_

Her voice cuts through his inner monologue "So um, how'd it happen, if you don't mind me asking?"

" _Huh?"_

"How did you end up in the hospital?"

 _Fuck! I knew she would ask me that. Think of a lie, a real lie, a believable one._

"I got in an accident…a hit and run with a car actually."

"Hmm. Your mother never told me about that…then again she never really told anybody about you."

 _My family never told anyone about me? Is that good thing or a bad thing?_

"Oh, well um my mother and sister are a bit conservative about their personal lives."

"What about your brother?"

" _You mean Tobias?"_ He laughs and shakes his head, "No, no, he's just really good friends with my sister."

He started to feel a bit more relaxed around her as they made their way back to camp. Alicia had told him multiple times about how Lori would pawn off her motherly duties onto Madison and everyone else so she could go off and do whatever she needed to do and be a negligent parent but the way she spoke fondly about her husband and her son…it all seemed to turn Alicia's accusations into pathetic lies told by a jealous sibling.

 _Why was I so worried about being around her in the first place?_

ϪϪϪϪ

Carl wasn't by the RV when they returned to drop off the firewood.

 _Where's Carl? Dale's supposed to be watching him._

"Dale, have you seen Carl?"

"Yeah dude, we thought you were watching him?" Nick chimes in.

 _Nick, your opinion is not needed right now._

"Shane took him down to the quarry." Dale answers, "There was some mighty bold talk about catching frogs."

"He's with Shane?" she looks out towards the quarry lake trying to spot them from a distance.

 _Well, as long as he's with an adult and not by himself._

"Okay, thank you for telling me." She turns and starts to walk away when Nick suddenly grabs her by the arm.

"Wait, that's it? 'Okay'? Are you fucking kidding me? You're alright with letting someone else watch your son?" he snaps in irritation. _I can't believe it, Alicia was fucking right!_

" _Uh, yeah. Of course I'm alright with it, he's with an adult and I do it all the time."_

His tone becomes more mocking, "Oh, oh, you let other people watch your son all the time? Is there a time where _you_ watch _your son_? Or do you just dump all of your motherly duties on everybody else here?"

She yanks her arm away from him _"What is your problem?"_

He scoffs and wipes the sweat off his brow, "My problem? My problem is that you're taking your loved ones for granted. Think about it: your husband, the love of your life, has come back from the dead. He's gone back to the city now leaving you and your son here with the possibility that he might not come back again. You just got your family back together again! You think this might be the world's way of telling you value what you have but apparently, you're not fucking listening!" he wipes his brow again and unzips his hoodie, the heat and humidity was starting to get to him and his anger wasn't helping him cool off.

 _If my mother spent as much time watching out for me like everybody else does with her son…_

"You know what; I don't like your attitude right now. If you have a problem with letting Shane watch my son you're gonna have to deal with it. He's a good friend and I trust him to—"

"You _trust_ him? _You trust him?_ You trust a man who _lied_ to you about your husband? Does someone who lies to you about something like that sound like a friend to you?"

The realization finally dawns on her and a chill falls down her spine. _Oh my god._ She turns and goes off the find her son.

 **A few minutes later at the lake…**

 _You trust a man who lied to you about your husband? Does someone who lies to you about something like that sound like a friend to you?_

His words still echoed in her head when she saw him sitting with Shane. Her blood boiled at the sight of Shane sitting with her son, pretending to be all friendly and parent like with him.

 _That's not his job or his son. That is mine and Rick's_

"Carl, what did I tell you about not leaving Dale's sight?" she asked, trying not to lose her cool about the whole scene before her.

"But Shane said we could catch frogs, remember?"

"It doesn't matter what Shane says. It matters what I say. No go back to camp."

Carl sighs unhappily as he walks past her, she just used the "Mom Tone" with him, there's no way he could argue with that now. Parents can ruin all the fun sometimes. She turns to follow him.

"I tell you. I do not think you should be taking this out on him." Shane chides to her.

"You don't tell me what to do. You lost that privilege."

He gets up, "Lori, could you just wait up a second? I think we should talk. We haven't had a chance to-"

Talk? Let's see that be a No

"No. No, that's over too. You can tell that to the frogs."

"Damn it, Lori. I don't know how it appears to you or what you think—"

"How it appears to me?" her tone grows serious "I'm sorry. Is there a gray are here? Let me dispel it. You stay away from me. You stay away from my son. You don't look at him. You don't talk to him. From now on, my family is off-limits to you."

"Lori, I don't think that's fair.

"Shane, shut up."

"I don't think that—" She slaps him across the face before he can continue.

"My husband is _back. He is alive_." She hissed

"He's my best friend." Shane returns, "Do you think I'm not happy about that?"

 _"How_ dare _you? Why would you be? You are the one who told me that he_ died _."_

Shane bites his lip and averts his gaze. He got the message: I don't trust you anymore, stay away from me. She storms off to catch up with her son

 _I can't believe I was so stupid to trust your lying ass._

* * *

 **Feel free to give constructive criticism and share your ideas. It gives me the motivation to make this story keep going.**


	7. Chapter 6

**Yeah, I know. This chapter is very late and was supposed to be posted before the midseason premier but with my current daily life demands it's hard to find time to work on and upload chapters in a timely manner. (Plus I also have to re-watch all the episodes of TWD to remember what happened and rewrite the chapter as I see fit. And I'm also still trying to find/understand/make up the psychology of the characters)**

 **For those of you who have still kept me on your alert list I sincerely thank you for your devoted patience.**

 **So without further ado. Here is Chapter 6 of TAaD. Enjoy!**

* * *

Carl hated doing cursive; he hated it more than math.

He had asked mom why it was considered part of his homework and she just always told him the same stupid thing: _because it's an important skill to know._

" _If it's so important, then why can't I learn help fix Dale's RV like Tobias."_ He grumbles.

"Because Dale's not okay with you working on something like that." His mother answers without looking up from her sewing.

He looks over towards the RV its hood propped up with Tobias tweaking here and there on the engine. "He'd be okay with it if I asked him."

"You can ask him after you finish your homework."

Carl groaned. Finishing his cursive and math homework would take _forever_. And by the time he finished that it would most likely be dark and time for dinner.

Speaking of dinner, what where they going to eat tonight? He hoped it wasn't stale beans and macaroni again; he was starting to get tired of the taste. He would be having frog legs tonight if mom hadn't dragged him away from Shane earlier that afternoon…but frog legs didn't sound very appetizing.

Amy and Angela return shortly after their fishing trip, their line heavy with fish. Everyone gives the two a little applause in astonishment of their feat. Carl had never seen that many fish before.

"Mom, look. Look at all the fish." His mother leans away a bit, not wanting to be touched by a dead fish. He reaches out to touch one of the scaly bodies. It feels cool and sort of slimy, but not quite slimy per say maybe more like snakeskin "Whoa"

"Yeah, whoa. Where did you two learn to do that?" she asks the sisters in astonishment.

"Our dad," says Amy

"Can you teach me how to do that?" _That looks like more fun than cursive._

"Sure. I'll teach you all about nail knots and stuff, if it's okay with your mother."

Lori shakes her head "You find me arguing."

Angela notices Dale walking towards them, "Hey Dale, when's the last time you oiled those line reels? They are a disgrace"

"I, uh—I don't want to alarm anyone." He starts. Everyone nearby gathers close to hear what he has to say. "We may have a bit of a problem." He turns and points to the hilltop in front of them, it's hard to see but at the very top they can make out the figure of Jim doing something with a shovel.

"What's he doing?" Shane asks.

"He's digging graves."

Carl whimpers, "Mom, did someone die?"

"No, no, nobody's died sweetie."

"Then why is he digging graves? Is somebody going to die?" tears start to well up in his eyes.

"He's been doing it all day. I tried to get him to stop but he won't listen to reason." Dale explained to Shane.

"It's not for dad, is it? He'll be back right?"

Shane looks over to see Lori trying to comfort her son and notices Carol is now doing the same with her daughter. Jim's actions were starting to put everyone on edge and if he didn't stop now rumors could spread and everyone would panic.

" _Well, let's see if I can't reason with him."_ He whispers to Dale before taking the trail up the hill.

* * *

He was still digging when Shane got there; it was evident that he needed help. His clothes were drenched with sweat and there was a wild look in his eyes if one looked closely. Jim didn't seem to acknowledge the growing audience before him. He was too focused of hacking and shoveling at the heavy Georgia soil.

"Hey, Jim."

No response.

"Jim, why don't you hold up, alright? Just give me a second here, please."

The mechanic sticks his shovel in the upturned soil. "What do you want?" he snaps.

"We're just a little concerned that's all; Dale says you've been out here for hours."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, why are you digging?" Shane chuckles lightly, "You trying to dig a hole to China?"

Jim shrugs, "What does it matter? I'm not hurting anyone." He goes back to digging.

Someone in the group scoffs loudly "Yeah, except maybe yourself. It's at least 100 degrees out here; you can't keep that up all day."

Jim laughs, "Sure I can, just watch me."

Unable to stay silent anymore, Lori steps forward. "Jim, they're not gonna say it so I will. You're scaring people. You're scaring my son and Carol's daughter."

"They got nothing to be scared of. I mean, what the hell people? I'm out here by myself why don't y'all just go and leave me the hell alone?"

"We think that you need to take a break, okay?" Shane steps closer "Why don't you go get yourself in the shade, some food maybe? I'll tell you what; maybe in a little bit I'll come out here and help you myself"

No response, he just keeps digging

"Jim, just tell me what it's all about? Why don't you give me the shovel?"

"Or what?" Jim snaps.

"There is no 'or what' I'm asking you, I'm coming to you and I'm asking you, please. I don't want to have to take it from you."

"And what if I don't, then what? Then you're gonna beat my face in like Ed Peletier aren't you? Y'all seen his face, huh? What's left of it? See that's what happens when someone crosses you."

Shane clenches his fists, this conversation was starting to go south "That was different, Jim."

"You weren't there," Amy adds, "Ed was out of control he was hurting his wife."

"That is their marriage, not his. He is not judge and jury." He shouts before turning to Shane, "Who voted you King Boss, huh?"

"Jim, I'm not here to argue with you, all right? Just give me the shovel, okay?" Shane reaches to grab the shovel.

Jim pushes him away and swings the shovel defensively as if it were a bat. Shane tackles him to the ground and attempts to handcuff him.

"You got no right! You got no right!" he howls still struggling to break free.

"Jim, stop it. Hey, hey Jim, nobody's gonna hurt you. You hear me, just calm down."

Jim falls silent and starts to cry, "That's a lie. That's the biggest lie there is. I told that to my wife and two boys. I said it 100 times…it didn't matter. They came out of nowhere; there were dozens of 'em…Just pulled 'em right out of my hands. The only reason I got away was 'cause the dead were too busy eating my family"

Everyone falls silent, shocked at what they just heard. Lori tries not to cry. Shane picks Jim up back on his feet and leads him away, leaving everyone to their own thoughts.

ϪϪϪϪ

He was starting to feel them again, the cravings.

He hated cravings. He thought his dependency on the skag and cigs went away when he was stuck sleeping like a corpse in that damn hospital. Guess that only worked when the world was normal. Nick scoffs to himself. Normal, that was now nothing but a distant memory. A distant memory where the dead stayed dead, where living out in the woods was a family pastime and not a life or death struggle, where domestic abuse was something you rarely ever heard or saw, where everything seemed to be under control. Normal.

Nothing was normal now, everything was abnormal. Abnormal scared him, made him feel that he had no control over anything in life, made him feel like he could never rise above the challenges that faced him, made him feel like a scared little boy whose only form of solace for his frantic nerves and desperate cravings was in the form of a cigarette or a few milliliters of melted drugs.

But he didn't have either of those things to quell his nerves or his cravings. And with all the stress he had to go through today, it sounded like a damn good time for a cigarette right now. He growls irritably and rolls a few kinks out of his neck. The pops and snaps provide a slight relief, but it's not enough.

He looks at the unopened cabinets and drawers on the Winnebago. He had checked every tent, every campfire site, and every empty vehicle and yet he found nothing. Not even so much as a damn aspirin tablet. Did anybody keep _anything_ in their glove compartments anymore or was it just people who practically lived in their cars? He rifles through the drawer's contents with shaking hands.

He shuts the drawer closed and moves to the next one.

 _There has to be_ something _in this damn rust bucket_

He tries his best not to rush, go too fast and you might miss something, go too slow and you increase the chance of getting caught. Getting caught, one of the main things when it came to drugs and looting: You always ran the risk of getting caught, which was what also led to Rule #1 in both fields: Don't get caught.

He knew they had to be somewhere he could smell it, the scent was faint but it was there, that intoxicating smell of cigarette smoke. He could smell in the air and on the worn fabric seats of the RV. He had never seen Dale smoke but he knew he must have done it at some point in time, maybe he did so on rare occasions or preferred to do so in private.

He slams the drawer closed, nothing _again._ His patience is starting to grow thin. There has to be something, anything! Fuck, even a stupid motion sickness pill would do. Standing on his toes he rifles through the overhead cabinets, the cravings growing stronger with each passing second, demanding his full attention in the frantic search for nicotine.

A voice cuts through his thoughts. "You're not looking for gift wrap too, are you?"

Nick stumbles back surprised and turns to see Dale giving him a questioning look. _Fuck, I just got caught._

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear and hides his twitching hands behind his back, "Hm, I'm sorry, what?" he asks, trying to sound as causally innocent as possible.

Dale looks over the young man's disheveled appearance and notices several open drawers slightly empty of their contents. It doesn't take too much thinking for him to realize the boy is looking for something.

"Are you looking for something?" he asks again, "because if there's something you need in specific you can always ask."

Nick bites his lip and the wheels start turning in his head. He just got caught going through the man's personal property and was now treading on thin ice, he had to get out of this without arousing suspicion, and that was by lying. He'd done it thousands of time so this one wouldn't be too hard right?

"My mother asked me if I could borrow a pair of scissors from you."

"Why?"

"She wants to trim my hair or something later tonight," he shrugs, "I dunno why, just one of those mom things I guess."

Dale nods, "Uh-huh, I see. Well if your mother is looking for a pair of scissors she'll have to ask Lori, she's the one who borrowed them last. Because all I have is this" He rummages through his pockets and pulls out a set of handheld wire cutters and places them in Nick's hand.

"This is why I don't like lending tools." Dale grumbles "When they say they're going to borrow something it means they're going to give it back but they never do and then you're stuck with the tools you have that can't get the job done."

Not sure if Dale was trying to make a joke or if he was being serious, Nick places the cutters in the man's shirt pocket and inches closer towards the door. "Ummm I appreciate the offer but uh, I think I'll just ask Lori."

"Be sure you bring them back when you're done."

"Yes, yes I'll do that too." He nods affirmatively before shutting the door behind him.

It takes all his self-control to not run all the way back to the tent he shared with his mother and sister; he had to act like everything was normal for him. Good thing he's alone when he returns. Lying on his makeshift sleeping bag he smiles to himself and chortles softly before pulling a small bottle of chewable vitamins from his back pocket.

 _What an idiot! He didn't even notice!_

He unscrews the cap and pops two of the tablets into his mouth. A few seconds passed and he began to feel slightly better, they weren't hardcore drugs but it was better than nothing and if he continued this way, maybe he'd eventually be able to get to the real-deal shit.

ϪϪϪϪ

Time seemed to stop right before Andrea's eyes as she cradled her little sister in her arms. She had been bitten, blood pouring out of her neck, her eyes wide with panic and shock. She couldn't hear the sounds of screaming and gunfire anymore. All she heard now was her sister's ragged gasps and whimpers.

Her brain searched frantically for the right thing to do. All those time where she would tell Amy that everything would be okay, nobody would hurt her, and all those other words of comfort wouldn't do anything for this situation. Amy was not okay, she would never be okay.

Jim's words echoed in her head. _That's a lie. That's the biggest lie there is._

"Amy," she whimpers

Amy tries to respond but the only sound she can make is a gurgle. _She's choking on her own blood, she's dying._

"I don't know what to do, Amy."

 _I said it 100 times…but it didn't matter._

Amy reaches out to gently stroke her sister's cheek, her breath coming in short breaths.

 _They came out of nowhere; there were dozens of 'em_

Her eyes begin to flicker for a few moments before finally closing, her hand falls to her side.

 _Just pulled 'em right out of my hands_

Tears slowly start to fall from her eyes, spattering onto Amy's bloody face.

"Oh, Amy" she whimpers, not caring of the survivors gathering around and looking on with shock.

"Nooo Amy!" she wails, shaking her sister's body as if she were asleep. "Amy! Amy!"

 _The only reason I got away was 'cause the dead were too busy eating my family_

"I remember my dream now," said Jim. "why I dug the holes."

* * *

 **Well that's all for Chapter 6. I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **1)For those of you who are wondering why I didn't have Alicia killed off well...let's just say I have a few things planned for her in the future. Remember this is a crossover and some of the things that happen in both mediums may or may not happen in this fic**

 **2) There is no actual date as to when the next chapter will be up. I will start typing it when I have the time and upload it when I have completed it. Just be patient and check back every now and then. If you have any questions or suggestions as to what will happen in the next chapter, feel free to leave a review/comment or send me a PM.**

 **3) In case if you were wondering. Yes, it is possible to actually cut your hair with wire-cutters. (Don't ask me how I know that)**


	8. Chapter 7

**Took a while to get this written up, I'm having problems dealing with depression right now. And apparently depression affects more than just my mood, it also affects my creativity. Had to re-watch Episode 5 at least 4-5 times to get this whole thing written up to my liking.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

Morning seemed to come way too early for the survivors, but they were all too shaken up from last night's attack to even get much sleep. For Andrea, she wished morning wouldn't have to come around at all.

She refused to leave Amy's side when everybody set out to dispose of their dead. She knew what they would do to once she handed her sister's body over to be "taken care of" they would gouge a giant hole inter her once beautiful face and then burn her along with the others. She didn't care if Lori promised they'd be as gentle as possible, nobody was going to do anything to Amy except for the only person who truly cared about her, and that was Andrea.

She could hear them talking about her behind her back, she wasn't deaf. They were probably going to take Amy from her by force if she didn't cooperate. She could hear Rick approaching her from behind, most likely to convince her to give up her sister's corpse.

"Andrea-"

Before he can even get a word out, she pulls out her gun right in his face, cocked and ready to fire.

"I know how the safety works." She warns.

He backs away from her, apologizing as he does so, she turns back to her sister. Nobody was going to take her sister away from her, not until she gave her a proper goodbye, but right now just wasn't the right time for that.

ϪϪϪϪ

"Y'all can't be serious. Let that girl hamstring us?" Daryl hissed to Rick and the others. "That dead girl's a time bomb."

"What do you suggest?" Rick asks.

 _What do you suggest?_ "Take the shot. Clean, in the brain from here." _Duh,_ "Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

"No. For god's sake, let her be."

He scoffs at them and storms off, another one of the reasons why he hates being with people: they're too stupid to think for the benefit of everyone.

"Wake up Jimbo. We've got some work to do."

He stoops down to assist Morales in dragging a corpse over to the pile of burning bodies. Glenn tries to stop them.

"Whoa, whoa, what are you doing? This is for geeks." He points to a pile of bodies behind the Winnebago, "Our people go over there."

"What's the difference? They're all infected."

"Our people go in that row over there." His voice cracks "We don't burn them! We bury them. Understand?"

 _Fine! If it makes your stupid ass happy._ He drags the corpse over behind the RV. "You reap what you sow."

"You know what? Shut up, man." Morales snaps.

"Y'all left my brother for dead." He shouts, pointing to the carnage around him, "You had this coming."

ϪϪϪϪ

Jim wasn't sure if it was his imagination or the humidity but, dammit why was everything so god damn hot right now?

 _It's probably just all this work I've been doing._ He stoops down next to Jacqui to help with dragging away another corpse. _The sooner we get this done the sooner I can find some shade…_

"Are you bleeding?" she asks, noticing a fresh bloodstain on his shirt.

"I just got some on me from the bodies."

"That blood is fresh. Where you bit?"

"No, I just got scratched during the attack."

"You got bit?"

"I'm fine."

"Then show me."

He looks around nervously, "Don't tell please." He whispers. _Please_

Jacqui spills the beans, getting everyone's attention. "A walker got him. A walker bit Jim."

Jim tries to reassure everyone, "I'm okay, I'm okay."

It doesn't work; they start to circle around him like a pack of wolves, cutting off any chance of escape. _They're gonna kill me, they're gonna kill me._ He grabs a shovel and attempts to swing it at anybody who gets too close.

T-Dog grabs him from behind, forcing him to drop the shovel. Daryl lifts up his shirt to reveal a throbbing red bite mark on Jim's side.

"I'm okay, I'm okay" He tries to reassure them, but everyone just backs away from him, still fearful of possibly being infected.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." He breaths heavily, "I'm okay, I'm okay."

* * *

"I say we put a pickax in his head," Daryl suggests "and the dead girl's and be done with it."

"Is that what you'd want if it were you?" Shane counters.

"Yeah, and I'd thank you while you did it."

Dale sighs, "I hate to it—I never thought I would—but maybe Daryl's right."

"Jim's not a monster, Dale, or some rabid dog." Rick argues.

"I'm not suggesting—"

"He's sick, a sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw the line?"

"The line's pretty clear. Zero tolerance for walkers, or them to be." Daryl snaps.

"He's right," someone adds, "He's not sick, he's dead…well, he's a dead man walking."

"What if we can get him help?" Rick suggests, "I heard the C.D.C. was working on a cure."

Shane's doubtful "I heard that too. Heard a lot of things before the world went to hell."

"What if the C.D.C is still up and running?"

"Man, that is a stretch right there."

"Why? If there's any government left, any structure at all, they'd protect the C.D.C. at all costs wouldn't they? I think it's our best shot. Shelter, protection—"

Shane disagrees with that statement. "Okay, Rick, you want those things, all right? I do too, okay? Now if they exist, they're at the army base. Fort Benning."

"That's 100 miles in the opposite direction." Lori points out.

"That's right, but it's away from the hot zone. Now listen to me, if that place is operational, it'll be heavily armed, but we'd be safe there."

"The military were on the front lines during this whole thing, they got overrun. We've all _seen_ that. The C.D.C. is our best choice and Jim's only chance."

Daryl glances back at Jim and makes his own decision, "You go looking for aspirin, do what you need to do. Somebody needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem!"

He rushes towards Jim, pickax raised, ready to slam it down on his head. Rick cocks his gun and points it at the back of his head prompting Daryl to stop in his tracks.

"We don't kill the living."

Daryl scowls at him, "That's funny coming from a man who just put a gun to my head." his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"We may disagree on things, but not on this. You put it down" Shane advises.

He slams the pickax on the ground and storms off. Rick drags Jim away by the arm.

"Come with me."

"Where are you taking me?" Jim asks.

"Somewhere safe." He answers as he leads Jim towards the Winnebago, he needed to keep Jim away from Daryl or things would get ugly very fast.

ϪϪϪϪ

Nick grumbles to himself when he feels another headache brewing in his skull. All this bullshit was making the cravings come back. Why did there have to be so much bullshit these days?

He roots around the inside of his sleeping bag where he hid the pills he stole from Dale the other day. _Why do people have to be so stupid and not see the truth that happens to be standing right in front of them?_

He finds the sleeping bag empty, that's odd? He could have sworn he hid it in there somewhere. What happened to them? He checks under his makeshift pillow. Nothing. _Where the fuck did they go?_

"Are you looking for something?" someone asks. He spins around to find his mother glaring at him, arms crossed, disappointment written on her face.

"What do you want me to say?" she snaps.

Nick bites his lip, unsure of what to say and struggling to find the right words.

 _Why you so mad at me? They're just vitamins, it's not like I stole Vicodin pills._ He wants to say those words, but he can't. Those aren't the right words.

"You don't know?"

Again nothing, he's still looking for the right words.

"You have no idea. No idea."

He finds the right words "Mom, I—"

Before he can even continue, what feels like a sharp knife strikes him across the face. It happens so fast, so fast he can't believe it happened. _Did she just hit—_

She lashes out at him again, more forcefully this time, she strikes him multiple times. He attempts to shield himself from the onslaught but it seems to make the blows fall harder. _Why are you doing this? It's not like I did something illegal. Why?_

A part of him says that he should either fight back or run away, but another part of him says that doing either will only make things worse. The only thing he can think of doing is to fall to his knees and cower before her liked a whipped dog.

She grabs him by the wrist and yanks him to his feet. "If I _ever_ catch you stealing again, do not even _think_ that I will vouch for you when they try to kick you out." She hissed in his ear. "Do I make myself clear?"

He nods and whispers hoarsely "Yes," he feels ashamed of himself and wishes he could just disappear and not have to deal with this right now.

"Good, now get out. And don't come back until you can completely change."

He nods and shuffles past her, avoiding eye contact.

She struggles to not break down into tears until he's out of earshot.

ϪϪϪϪ

She's not sure whether to be proud of herself or indifferent at the sight of her son avoiding eye contact and interaction with the others as they proceeded to bury their dead. She knew why he was avoiding everyone; there was a small cut on his cheek from where her ring had slightly grazed him after she backhanded him. If people took notice they'd begin to suspect that he was hiding something, just like Jim, either that or he was too ashamed to be confronted about it.

 _Good,_ she thought to herself, _he should be ashamed of himself. He should know by now that drugs are not going to make this thing go away._

 _He should know by now that he's an adult and that his actions are now his responsibility._

An adult; those two words seemed to bring a small pang of sadness in her heart. An adult, he was no longer an child who used to run about the place, catching bugs and teasing his little sister, no longer the little boy who would come rushing home after school to excitedly tell her about his latest adventure, no matter how trivial they seemed; no longer a child or a teenager anymore but an adult.

Memories start to play before her, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. _If only I had more time, if only I had paid more attention, if only I gotten him help sooner, if only…_

She wipes her eyes and rids the thoughts from her head. That was all in the past and there was no point in fretting about it now, and there was no point in blaming herself. She had given him enough chances for him to try and change and each one ended up in failure.

She thought he would've cared more about being with his loved ones after nearly having everything ripped away from him. She thought he would've realized that real life and responsibility still existed and wouldn't simply go away just by taking a couple pills. She thought he had changed…guess she was wrong.

She knew there was only one way to make him change. It was a decision that brought her to tears when she found out that he was stealing drugs from people. If she couldn't get him to change by offering help, then he was going to have to figure it out on his own.

ϪϪϪϪ

Dinner was tense and quiet that night. Nobody said a single word to Nick throughout the rest of the day, not even Tobias. Guess everyone was too preoccupied with the news they'd just received before nightfall.

 _I say the most important thing here is we need to stay together. So those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the morning_

In the morning, that's what Shane told everyone. In the morning, why the fuck aren't they going to be leaving now? The longer they stayed here the more likely they'd get attacked in the middle of the night. And Jim needs treatment, they longer they put that off the worse he'll get. Why not just pack up everything and hit the road now?

A yawn escapes him, he rubs his irritated eyes. _Probably because they don't want us falling asleep at the wheel in the dark._

At the thought of the word 'sleep' his eyes slowly begin to close, his head hangs low. He hadn't slept since yesterday morning. He contemplates sleeping where he is right here right now, outside under the stars and…Wait, outside? No! Wake Up!

He jolts awake and shakes his head clear.

 _Stay awake, stay awake. Just stay awake long enough to get to bed and then…yeah, yeah just long enough to…to do whatever it is I need to do._

Before he can take another step towards the tent he shares with his mother and sister, Madison stops him. "What are you doing?"

 _Seriously mom, I'm not in the mood for games._ "What's it look like? I'm going to bed."

"I can see that but you're not doing it under my roof."

"Your roof? Mom, it's a tent not a house."

"It's shelter so it's still the same thing, and you're still not welcome back here."

"….What are you talking about?"

"Do you not remember a single word I said to you this morning?"

He blinks at her for several minutes, searching his brain for what she had said earlier that day. Oh, wait…those words _"don't come back until you can completely change"._ Those words begin to echo harshly in his ears.

"Oh come on, you can't be serious. You can't just kick me out."

"Oh I'm dead serious. And I can kick you out; you're an adult now you don't need me."

"But-but we're family. We look out for each other, I'm your son."

She's silent for a moment and looks him over. "You _were_ my son, but then you changed. So no, not anymore."

 _Not anymore? Not anymore? What the fuck was that supposed to mean!? Is she disowning me!?_

"I'm sure Dale has some room to spare in his RV. I suggest you get some sleep before tomorrow morning," she turns away and zips the tent flap closed, leaving him alone in darkness.

* * *

 **Please don't forget to leave any comments. suggestions, or reviews, they help help give me the inspiration to keep working on this and improve the story to better your reading experience.**


	9. Chapter 8

**I apologize for the long wait of this chapter. Real life became so hectic for me that the only time I had to write would be at least 4 hours before I would have to get up for work the next morning (I had two demanding jobs, neither of which were satisfying to me) But now I have some stability over my life for now and I finally found the time to get this finished. I started working on this in two weeks ago and finally found time to finish it. Sorry if this chapter is too short for your liking, it was originally going to be much longer but, my sister insisted that I keep them short and simple. (Not just for her sake, but for my sleep deprived body as well)**

* * *

Alicia noticed that something wasn't right when she awoke the next morning to hear the absence of her brother's soft snores.

Her brother was a heavy sleeper and often slept long past normal waking hours, even before he started using, one time he even slept in till 1 in the afternoon. Waking up in the early hours of the day didn't agree well with him and would often result in him falling asleep if he stayed stationary for too long whether it be on his own two feet or behind the wheel.

She looked to her right and noticed that her mother was absent as well; her things already packed and ready to be put in the car. She must be putting some of her brother's things in the car right now as well.

" _Guess I might as well do the same"_ she grumbles groggily to herself as she pulls on her shoes and stuff her clothes and belongings into her suitcase. She has so much crap that she has to practically sit on it just to get the damn thing closed. Tobias drops by as she finishes rolling up her sleeping bag.

"Oh good, you're up. Come on, Shane's going over the whole thing before we hit the road."

She fumbles around with the bag straps to keep it from rolling out again before giving up on the third try. _I'll let mom do it._ She grabs her jacket and hurries out to meet with the rest of the survivors.

She sees that all signs of drowsiness have faded from their eyes to be replaced with alertness and fear. They wanted to get the hell out of here, they all did, and the longer they sat standing around the longer it would take to get to the CDC.

The only person who didn't seem to show the slightest ounce of alertness was her older brother. His hair was a mess and his cloths, the same ones that he'd been wearing for the past two days in a row, were winkled and appeared to have been slept in from the night before. His eyelids were barely open, his posture slouching to the point where he might fall over, and head slowly drooping down. He would blink every now and then and his posture would straighten himself up slightly only for ten to fifteen seconds before his eyelids began to droop and his posture slowly returning to its original position to repeat the cycle. **(*)**

 _Nice job big brother, embarrassing your little sister again like always._

Shane rubs the back of his head impatiently, eager to get this show on the road. "Alright everybody listen up," _I'm only gonna say this once_ "For those of you with C.B.s, we're gonna be on Channel 40. Let's keep the chatter down, okay? Now you got a problem, anyone of you who don't have a C.B. can't get a signal or anything at all, you're gonna hit your horn one time and that'll stop the caravan. Any questions?"

Morales speaks up; "We're uh…we're not going."

Everyone looks at him with mixed looks of confusion and concern. _Not going? What do you mean you're not going?_

"We have family in Birmingham," his wife explains, "We want to be with our people."

"You go out on your own; you won't have anyone to watch your back." Shane warns.

"We'll take the chance. I got to do what's best for my family."

"You sure?"

"We talked about it. We're sure."

Rick chews on his lip in thought; he searches through the bag of guns and ammo before handing Morales a .357 handgun with a half full box of bullets. Morales gratefully accept the offer.

Tearful goodbyes and farewell hugs are exchanged before the survivors go their separate ways to pack the remainder of their belongings.

* * *

The mid-morning sun was beginning to dance across her drooping eyelids by the time she had managed to shove her belongings into the trunk of her mother's car. It was packed in a rather haphazard manner but she didn't care, she was too tired to care. She just wanted to get out of here.

She sees her mother making her way towards the driver's side of the car, Nick trying to get her attention. She can hear the pleading tone of her brother's voice as she opens the door.

"Mom, mom, can you just... Can we just talk about-?"

Madison slams the door in his face. He stands there for a while before giving the thumbs up sign.

"Uhh, okay, we had a good talk. I'm just gonna go get my stuff and uhhh…go ride with uh, the Grimes I guess."

Madison says nothing but sends him a quick glare, a silent conversation seems to be exchanged between the two of them before he looks away submissively and turns to gather his belongings from the back of the car.

 _He's not riding with us? Why?_

"Mom, why isn't-"

"He's not riding in this car because he's not with us anymore." She cut Alicia off.

" _Not with us? What do you-"_

Madison reaches into her backpack and pulls out a hardback book **(**)** , she hands it to her daughter. Bookmarks stuck out at various edges of the book, some of the edges of the pages had been dog-eared to mark where the reader had left off from their reading. There was no text on the cover of the book, probably because the title was on the missing book jacket. Alicia turns the book over to look at the well-worn spine. She finds the title written there in gold letters:

 **When Your Adult Child Breaks Your Heart**

 _What does this have to…_ "You disowned him?"

"He's not disowned honey, just estranged."

"Estranged?...Why? I thought you cared about him? What about all that "being there for him" bullshit you told me two months ago? Was that all just a lie?"

Madison is silent for moment, thinking over her words.

"What I said was the truth. But when I said that, I was hoping he'd be different once he woke up…especially after waking up alone in that hospital. I thought he'd change…It appears I was wrong, he hasn't changed in any way, and he's still the same as he was before."

She turns the keys in the cars ignition, the engine sputters and roars to life.

"He's not with us anymore because he died a long time ago."

 _Four years ago to be exact_

* * *

 **A/Ns**

 ***Yes, this is what people do when they're sleep deprived/not a morning person. I know this because it has happened to me several times.**

 **** Yes this book really exists.**

 ***** My sister wants me to speed things up a little so the next chapter will take place at the CDC rather than just going over the entire road trip to their destination**


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

She found him sitting in one of the shower rooms, alone, still fully clothed and soaking wet with an empty bottle of vodka lying on its side nest to him.

Seeing her brother soaked to the bone like that almost reminded her of the times when they used to go outside in the middle of a rainstorm and splash around in the developing mud muddles; fiddling around with globs of mud, laughing and smiling despite their mother's protests to put on a raincoat. Except he wasn't smiling or laughing, he was brooding.

He held a cigarette in his right hand which he kept twirling around and around in flawless rhythm. She could tell there was something going on in that head of his, he wouldn't fiddle around with a cigarette like that unless he intended to light it up or collect his thoughts.

 _Does he even notice me standing here?_

As if hearing her thoughts the cigarette stops twirling and he brings it to his lips as if he were attempting to catch a few drags before exhaling and limply holds it between his fingers.

"Stupid," he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, "So stupid…can't fight it. You can't win no matter how hard…cause yur a stupid, stupid dog." He closes his eyes in a defeated manner.

Alicia's heart sinks. He was talking to himself again, talking to himself in a degrading manner. He never talked to himself like that unless he was depressed or thinking…

 _No. He wouldn't, he promised._

Her voice comes out just barely above a whisper "Nick?"

He must have heard her for his eyes opened slightly; he shifts around into a straighter sitting posture but continues to keep his gaze fixed on the wall opposite of him. His hand returns to its twirling.

"What Leesh?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking about stuff. I'm fine."

"You haven't eaten or said anything since we got here. You're not fine, your-"

"Leesh, I'm fine, I'm just not hungry n' have a lot on my mind that's all."

 _Lies, you haven't eaten anything since this morning. The last time you went that long without food you…_

"Nick, I know what happened the other night. Mom told everyone about the estrangement after you stormed off."

The cigarette stops mid-twirl. News of his estrangement leaking out obviously seemed to hit a nerve somewhere.

"Do you…do you think she hates me?...Because I keep reminding her of how much she failed him?" he turns to look her in the face.

Alicia didn't need to ask what her brother meant by _"Him"_ Ever since the accident; Nick couldn't bear to say his father's name aloud.

"Why would she hate you for that? She loved him, and she loves you too."

"Yeah," he scoffs, "until I started to look more like him. Now every time she sees me and sees how much of a screw up I am she can't help but think _"He'll never forgive me for failing to raise his son properly. Never."_ "

"That's not true; you're only thinking that because you're upset."

"Oh really? Well then why did she cast me out?"

"She's not casting you out because she hates you it's because she wants you to see that your actions-"

"Won't get me anywhere in life and that I need to change. I know." He snaps. "It's just that…"

Before he can continue, he keels over on his hands and knees and begins to wretch violently. She stoops down next to him to pull his hair back.

 _At least he's doing it where there's a drain_

"It's okay, you're gonna be okay, don't try to fight it."

"I'm not," he rasps before crawling out the stall and onto the tiled floor. "I can't"

"Well of course you can't. That's what happens when you drink on an empty stomach."

"I'm not talking about the vodka Leesh," he sobs, "I'm talking about our nature."

 _Our nature?_

"It runs in our family after all." He chokes, "I mean come on if someone in our family did it in the past then it's bound to happen to the next generation too, and it's gonna happen no matter what you do. It's just like that with dogs chasing their tails; they know they can't catch it but they can't help it."

She pulls him into a sitting position and wraps him in her arms. His hair smells like rain.

"You can't fight nature Leesh," He sobs, "Nature always wins. No matter how hard I try I'm always gonna relapse n' break every promise I make." He sniffs, "I'm no better than a stupid dog."

"No. You're not," she murmurs, "You haven't broken all of them. Remember the one you made after your second attempt?"

He sniffs, "Yeah,"

"Do you know why you made that promise?"

"Cause I couldn't stand to see you cry like that…and because you said you needed me."

"And have you ever tried to do it again?"

He shakes his head no.

"Then you're not worse than a dog following its nature. You're still you, still my brother, and you'll always be my brother."

Another sniff, she tightens her hold around him "What if I relapse? What if I return to circling the drain again and they kick me out of the group?"

"You won't relapse; we just need to work out on finding something that helps keep your mind off the cravings."

"Like finding something to do that calms me down?"

"I think it has to be doing something that makes you feel like…similar to what you feel when you're happy or something."

"Like natrul dopmine high er doin sumthin over 'n over?" he slurs groggily.

"Yeah, something like that."

"I like talking. Glo would always listen to me talk. 'Specially when I felt sad n' stuff." He mumbles, eyes slowly drooping closed.

Sensing her brother's lethargy she carefully pulls him to his feet and leads him towards the nearest sofa.

"Come on, we need to get you out of these clothes and into bed."

He plops down on the couch and fumbles around with taking his wet pants and shirt off his shivering body.

"Where are the rest of your dry clothes?"

He gestures towards the couch opposite of him. "Iss in th' pack over there." His voice growing heavy with sleep, the cold sapping what was left of his body heat.

She rifles through the haphazardly packed clothes and books before pulling out a pair of blue jeans and a clean T-shirt and tosses them over to her brother. He struggles to fight the call of sleep as he pulls his shirt over his head. Alicia returns from the hall closet with a set of blankets, he's already out like a light. She carefully drapes a heavy cotton blanket over his sleeping form before setting up a sleeping spot for herself on the opposite couch with his soft snores gently lulling her to sleep.

ϪϪϪϪ

Amidst all the chaos and the shouting, arguing, shooting, and struggling; Andrea actually felt calm for what seemed like the first time in her life. Everything around her felt horribly cold despite the fact that the air conditioning was no longer working. It didn't matter though, in a few minutes they'd all be heading off to greener pastures where grief, pain, freezing temperatures, and all that other bullshit would be nothing but a distant memory. If only everyone wasn't so stupid to take the fucking hint.

 _Idiots, idiots, all of them, they're nothing but a bunch of fucking idiots! What part of "Everything's Gone" do they not understand?_

She chuckled to herself when she heard the sound of everyone's panicked flight through the now unlocked door.

 _Idiots, they're just delaying the inevitable. They'll all get it in the end, it doesn't matter how hard you try to fight it off._

Dale skidded to a stop on the ramp noticing her reluctance to leave.

"Andrea come on we need to go."

She shakes her head, "I'm staying, Dale."

"What? _Andrea_ _No."_

She rolls her eyes and slumps down into a sitting position on the floor. He shoos the others away to safety and rushes over to her side.

"Andrea no." he pleads, "This isn't what Amy would want for you."

"She's dead, and you need to leave." She returned bluntly. Her face remains unmoving when she sees his lower lip tremble.

The clock runs down to three minutes eleven seconds left.

ϪϪϪϪ

 **In the CDC lobby…**

The adrenaline boost was starting to fade, and Nick was growing desperate. He may have been suicidal in his darker years but death by exploding fire didn't sound like his cup of tea. He threw his full weight into the door. It still wouldn't budge.

"Get them doors open! Come on!" someone shouted.

 _What's it look like we're trying to do? Get everybody killed?_

"It doesn't work?" Glenn panted before attempting to kick the door open, T-Dog steps away and tries to operate the control panel. Nothing happens.

Daryl and Rick, both with an ax in hand rush towards a side window and proceed to hack away at the glass, hoping the blunt force blows would shatter the barrier. The only good it seems to do is leave streaks behind on its clear surface.

 _We can't die here, we can't die here! We have not. Come this far. To die now!_

T-Dog grabs a chair, "Daryl, look out!"

Daryl jumps out of the way as he begins to smash the chair legs against the glass. Again, nothing happens. Not even a fucking shotgun can break it.

Carol begins to rifle through her purse "Rick, I have something that might help."

"Carol, I don't think a nail file's gonna do any good" Shane jokes sarcastically.

"Your first morning at camp when I washed your uniform, I found this in your pocket." She pulls out a hand grenade and hands it to the man.

 _Where'd he get that- Oh wait the tank. Never mind…Why is my brain thinking such thoughts right now? We're all going to die and the only thing I'm doing is just standing around watching? Waiting for a bomb to—Oh wait…Shit! Get down!_

The force of the explosion shatters the glass, nobody wastes another second as they hightail their way to the parked vehicles, shooting walkers and leaping over fallen bodies as they do so.

 _Wait, where's Dale and Andrea? We can't leave without them._

Rick grabs the keys to the Winnebago off the visor and attempts to start the engine; Lori stops him and points to two figures slowly making their way out of the building.

"Wait, wait, over there. They're coming"

Rick glances at his watch and notices the time is almost out. He honks the horn like a road raged driver.

"Get back! Everybody get down!"

Plumes of fire begin to form in the air and suddenly, everything bursts in to flames and rubble. It only lasted a few seconds, but for him it seemed to last forever. The force of the blast vibrating through his body and his ears ringing, he doesn't want to look at the burning remains but at the same time he can't help it.

As they begin to drive away, everyone is speechless but they didn't need to say what was on their minds. They all had the same questions in their heads.

 _Where do we go now, and what do we do?_

* * *

 **Huzzah! Season 1 is finally done!**

 **Thank you to all of those who have been so patient with my erratic updating and long periods between chapters. This chapter took a long time for me because I had trouble figuring out to make the second half wrap up what happens in TS19 but without being too long and resulting me in losing my interest in writing.**

 **I am really excited that Season 1 is done and that I can start on Season 2. Cause that's where the tension between the group and drama begins to build.**


	11. Chapter 10

**Hooray! The first chapter of Season 2 is up! This took a long time because my PC kept giving me problems about not having enough memory space bullcrap. I had to delete a lot of stuff just to get this one done and I still don't have enough memory space for other things on my PC. I'm going to get that fixed in a few days and get everything figured out but for now, Please enjoy!**

* * *

The cravings were starting to come back. And they were coming back with a vengeance. Instead of getting the familiar "hunger pangs" and headaches that he would get from the ones in the past, these cravings seemed to come back with memories of the good (and sometimes bad) ol' days and the nagging voices in his head.

These voices, he'd had them for a while now. Fuck, he'd had them ever since his father died. Often telling him he was stupid or selfish, worthless and better off dead, or sometimes they would just narrate out his actions and thoughts almost as if he were reading a first person account of his life or something.

 _I wonder if that's how writers see and process stuff. Are all their brains like that? Fuck I dunno. Ugh, I'm so bored! I hate long car rides! I need something to doooo-ugh. How much longer until we get to Fort What's-its-Name?_

He grumbles to himself as he rests his head against the window of the RV. He needed a distraction, something that would provide an "outlet for his addictive energy" as Tobias had put it earlier. He could do that by talking, but nobody wanted to talk right now.

 _Might as well just stare out the window I guess._

Forested road-side and run down neighborhoods pass before him, the rhythmic movement of the vehicle lulling him into a half-drowsy state. He wants to sleep but the heat of the summer day and the rattling of appliances around the Winnebago makes falling asleep too difficult.

Dale's cursing brings him out of his drowsy thoughts, something must be wrong to make the man curse. He rarely ever cursed unless he was upset, and it took a lot to get the old man pissed off. Making his way towards the front of the vehicle he almost wanted to start cursing as well.

Row upon row of cars were jammed along the road, stacked bumper to bumper in some areas creating a huge traffic snarl. Most were abandoned while others held rotting corpses in rolled down windows. They must have all been trying to make their way to Fort What's-it-Name only to be stuck in the panicked flight of other drivers.

Daryl, who had been scouting ahead of them on the road, drives up to the window.

"You see a way through?" Dale yells out the window above the rumbling of the engine. Daryl looks over his shoulder and makes a motion for them to follow him though the snarl.

Glenn glances down at his road map, "Uhhh, maybe we should just go back. There's an interstate bypass-"

Dale shakes his head, "No, we can't spare the fuel."

 _Fuuuuck! I hate traffic! This is why you never got your license in the first place…well, that and you were too high to even drive without falling asleep at the wheel._

Passing overturned cars, open car doors, scattered belongings on the road was stating to become a little unnerving.

 _What happened here to make everyone just get up and abandon everything like that?_

The whole scene was starting to turn into one huge trigger. His hand began to twitch. Memories of looting and lock picking started to replay before his eyes. He prayed that whatever divine being was out there that they would get through this fast, the last thing he needed was for his brain to go on autopilot and have him start relapsing and falling back on old habits.

Something in the front hood clanks loudly and smoke begins to plume out from the front with a loud sputtering screech.

 _Fuck! No! Not now!_

Dale kills the engine and everyone clambers out, even the cars behind them have stopped upon noticing the vehicle's cacophonous breakdown. Nick notices a discard wire clothes hanger on the ground, he impulsively picks it up.

"I said it. Didn't I say it? A thousand times, dead in the water." Dale berates

"Problem Dale?" Shane asks with a hint of sarcasm.

"Just a small matter of being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hope of—"

He cuts his monologue short when he notices Daryl looting the back of an abandoned car.

"Okay, that was dumb."

"If we can't find a radiator hose here—"

"There's a whole bunch of stuff we can find." Daryl grunts.

T-Dog seems to get the hint; he grabs a gas can and a hose. "I can siphon more fuel from these cars for a start."

It's all too much, the talk of looting, the memories of theft, and the wire hanger in his hands. His brain suddenly kicks into autopilot and his hands immediately begin to unravel the wire in perfect muscle memory.

Lori's voice temporarily breaks him out of his instinctive drive. "This is a graveyard."

Everyone stops to stare at her in dumb acknowledgment.

"I don't know how I feel about this."

 _"_ _Bitch, if you've never robbed in your life, then you obviously don't know what it's like to survive on your own."_ Nick scoffs as he makes his way towards the nearest car and proceeds to pick the lock.

Madison doesn't say a word, she knows he was in own little world when he said that. It was nearly impossible to get him out of that mentality with just a few words or reasoning. The addictive nature was just too strong. And now that the world was ending, it was almost like nothing had even changed for him. He was still doing the same things that were necessary to survive in this environment.

 _He can never be saved now. Once and addict always an addict._

"Nicholas Clark!" Dale snaps. _Watch your language_

The boy's head snaps up at attention upon hearing his name, "Yeah?"

Dale glares at him and a silent mental exchange seems to pass between them before the boy give a slight "oh" and turns to Lori and utters an apology.

"Sorry, I just…want to get out of here is all." He turns to leave before stopping and spinning around on his heel, "Oh, and one more thing," he addresses the rest of the group, "check the locked cars first, unlocked cars are usually the first to be looted…Don't ask me how I know that." *****

ϪϪϪϪ

 _If you've never robbed in your life, then you obviously don't know what it's like to survive on your own._

Those words, those words continued to ring in Lori's ears. Living on your own? What was he doing on his own that required him to be stealing from people? Was he running from the law before the world ended, did he run away from home?

 _Or did he something worse than that?_

How could Madison have the courage to tell everyone that she had estranged her own son, but not have the courage to tell her about her own son and leave everyone to figure out his story for themselves? Seriously, it made no sense.

 _Maybe she's ashamed, maybe she's embarrassed, and maybe she's just not ready to tell her story to everyone…maybe_

But that still doesn't mean she should hide information involving criminal activity from everyone! He could have raped or murdered someone for all Lori knew, and his mother was just gonna keep information like that _to herself_!?

 _And to think I let that boy watch my son…_

She angrily folded the shirt in her hands at the thought of her son imprinting on a violent criminal. She wanted Madison to tell her everything she wanted to know about him. No, she _needed_ Madison to tell her everything. But she couldn't just outright ask her, which would be rude and nosey.

 _If you really want to know, you'll have to confront him yourself._

Carl's chipper voice broke her out of her thoughts, "Hey Mom! Look what I found!" he holds up a discarded handgun by its barrel, a triumphant grin of his face.

"Carl, no don't touch that! It's dangerous" she scolds.

 _I'll confront him…but first I need to look after my own son._

ϪϪϪϪ

Nick was on a roll here with these cars. He had just broken Randall Culver's record of "Most Cars Lock-picked In a Single Day" and was close to beating his old record. He could do this all day if nobody broke his concentration.

He mentally cheers to himself as he completes Car #23 and moves on to #24, he didn't bother with trying to loot them, they probably didn't have what he was looking for. Only idiots kept drugs and alcohol in their cars.

Someone yanks on his arm and he spins around in time to see T-Dog scrambling underneath Car #21.

"Hide," he hissed barely above a whisper. "Walkers are coming."

 _Walkers? Where?_

He looks towards the direction he had come and sees a horde of at least 20 or maybe 80 walkers shambling their way around the snarl. Suddenly his mind switches from hungry scavenger to scared little bunny.

 _Fuck! Hide!_

The cars closest to him were no good for hiding under; their bottoms were too low for him to crawl under. He'd have to find a better vehicle.

He attempts to hide under a wrecked car with the door open, old run down vehicles were less likely to draw suspicion when hiding. He grabs the side of the door to support himself as he ducks down to avoid being spotted by one of the undead when a sharp piece of metal suddenly slices his arm open and blood begins to spew out onto the tarmac.

 _Shit! Fuck! Goddamsonufabitch!_

The walkers begin to pick up their pace, the scent of fresh blood catching their attention and drawing them closer to their next meal. It didn't matter how far he tried to run or how well he tried to hide, they'd still sniff him out.

"Shit, shit, shit! What do I do?"

What could he do? Fuck, there was _nothing_ that he could do. With walkers closing in on him he had nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide.

* * *

 *** My father once had his car looted one night because he didn't lock his doors. And this was in a suburban neighborhood, and it happened to multiple neighbors too. All the other cars on our driveway that were locked (and didn't have valuables in plain sight) were left untouched. It was the same with our neighbors.**


	12. Chapter 11

**This Chapter had to go through a lot of editing and rewrites to get it to a final form that I was satisfied with. Thank you to everyone for your patience with my PC difficulties and creativity blocks.**

* * *

Weaving in and out of cars trying to avoid being detected, Nick couldn't help but remember the days when she used to play hide –and-seek with his friends when he was younger. He was always the one who could never be found by the end of the game, hiding in the most unthinkable of places for hours on end. Hiding in the upstairs attic, inside kitchen cupboards with barely enough room to hide a small child, he even once hid inside the laundry dryer for nearly an hour. Who knew playing such childish games would pay off in his later years.

When things went to shit as a teenager it changed into something more of a survival game with his mother. She would try to look for him at the usual haunts where addicts would go to be safe from the eyes of the law, try to find him and drag him back home and get him some help despite the fact that he didn't want help. Five out of ten times she would find him holed up in an run-down house or in an abandoned parking garage, thank goodness she never knew about the church, nobody except Calvin and his "friends" where allowed to know the discreet location of the rundown sanctuary.

His vision begins to swim and he struggles to keep moving despite the growing shock and exhaustion. He trips on his feet and falls to the ground, he hears the rattling hiss of a walker advancing behind him.

 _Shit_

Three of the dens he had stayed at were busted by the police, three times he hid for his life, and each time he managed to get away. He would hide in the most unthinkable of places and wait for the authorities to believe they had seized all the evidence they needed and leave, wait for at least 12 to 24 hours, and then escape under the cover of nightfall. Nobody could ever find him when he retreated to the shadows…until now.

 _Looks like Death's finally found me. Game Over._

Something creeps up behind the walker and stabs it upside the head. A strangled growl emits from the corpse's throat before falling towards the ground bringing the silent killer with it. He wasn't expecting it to be Daryl, the loner of the group.

Daryl motions for him to be quiet before tossing the dead walker on top of him and doing the same for himself with a dead driver. More walkers pass by them, not seeming to notice that the blood trail had mysteriously vanished.

 _Scent-rolling, of course. Why didn't I think of that sooner, wolves do it all the time._

He lay as still as he possibly could while letting out small slow breaths whenever he felt the need for oxygen. He cloud stay like this for hours, blocking out thoughts of hunger, cold and discomfort. He grits his teeth when he felt the sensation of something dribbling onto his arm and…

 _Oh god, how long is this gonna take?_

The shambling footfalls of the dead seem to continue for hours before Daryl yanked the walker off his body and pulls him to his feet.

At the sudden change in position a wave of dizziness slams into him followed by a throbbing pain in his skull. He stumbles slightly and tries to brace himself against a car.

"Ey c'mon man, don't make me carry you back" Daryl growls.

"M'not, I'm just…fine."

"You're anemic is what you are with that cut on yer arm."

"It's just a flesh wound."

"Yeah keep telling yerself that."

ϪϪϪϪ

" _Are they gone?"_ Sophia whispered to herself as the chatter of cicadas slowly replaced the fading footfalls of the walkers.

" _Are they gone?"_

She was used to hiding. Mommy always played the hiding game with her before dad would come home most nights. The objective was simple: find a place to hide and don't come out until Mommy found her or said it was okay to do so. She didn't need to worry about dad finding her because Mommy always found her first.

Where was she? The walkers were gone so surely Mommy would come out of hiding and look for her right? Maybe she couldn't find her, maybe she didn't know where to look, maybe she didn't know if it was safe to come out herself.

 _Maybe Mommy's looking for me right now._

She belly crawls her way out from under her hiding spot. A shadow approaches her.

 _Mom?_

A rattling hiss disproves her assumption. Not Mommy, just another walker. Sophia shrieks in fear as it drops down onto its knees and attempts to grab her. Her screams grow more frantic as it crawls its way under the car. She shimmies her way out the other side and slides down the hill towards the forest. She needs to get away.

She remembered the time when she asked Mommy what would happen if dad ever found her first. The answer she got was simple: run. Run and get help, don't ever let him catch you. Later that answer would apply to the same things that ate her dad.

The sound of snapping twigs and foliage make her run faster, they're right behind her.

 _Go away! I don't wanna die!_

She trips and falls, someone grabs her as she stumbles to her feet, before she can even scream a hand clamps down tightly over her mouth.

Mr. Grimes attempts to calm her when she notices the handgun he always carried by his side.

"Shoot them!" she whimpers, reaching for the gun.

"No. No!" he whispers loudly, pushing her hand away. "Those walkers on the road would hear it. Then it wouldn't be just two, it'd be hundreds."

The sound of snapping branches grows louder. They're getting closer! Mr. Grimes picks her up in his arms and carries her away towards a river, setting her down by the edge of the bank.

"All right, just hold here." He whispers before jumping down into the shallow water and tucking her underneath a cluster of overhanging branches.

"Sophia, you have to do exactly as I say. Hide in here and I'll draw them away from you."

"No no, don't leave me." She whimpers

"Listen, listen. They don't get tired but I do. I can only deal with them one at a time. I wouldn't be able to protect you; this is how we both survive. You understand?"

She doesn't want to be left alone but she gets why? She doesn't like it, but she has to deal with it. Cause whatever adults tell you to do, you do it; no arguing. She sniffs and nods in understanding.

"If I don't make it back, run to the highway, back to the others straight the way we came. Keep the sun on your left shoulder." Mr. Grimes instructs her.

Raspy growls tell her that the walkers are close on their trail. He curses and shouts to get their attention; they fall and stumble after him as her leads them away down river.

The sound of splashing grows farther away. Did Mr. Grimes get rid of them? Is he coming back? She didn't know but she didn't want to wait here to find out. Crawling out of the thicket and up the bank she retraced her steps back to the highway.

ϪϪϪϪ

Growing up in the city, Nick was used to hearing noise at night when trying to fall asleep. Cars, barking dogs, sirens, even an airplane or the hum of air-conditioning; but in the country there was nothing but silence.

He growls irritably as a dull pain rolls along the side of his head.

 _Silence, non-stop thoughts and three-hour headaches_

How long was it going to be before he fell asleep? At this rate he'd be up until sunrise with this pain, and even if he didn't have this damn headache it still wouldn't be possible with all the thoughts he had running through his head.

 _Poor Sophia, I hope she's okay. Maybe she found shelter for the night and we'll find her tomorrow. Should I help look tomorrow?_

A thought snaps back at his question, _'Probably not you'll just slow everyone down and be a burden as always.'_

 _Again? Again with these nagging thoughts? Why?_

' _I don't know. That's something you should know the answer to. Oh, wait you can't. You know why?'_

He growls and turns over on his side, trying to block out all thoughts of negativity.

' _It's because you can't! You can't know the answer no matter how hard you try. Cause you're like a stupid dog chasing its own tail. You keep trying but it's not going to change a thing, even your mother's stopped trying. You should follow her example, give up and live with the way things are.'_

 _That's not true; sis hasn't given up on me_

' _Has she? Are you sure she's not looking out for you because she's your sister? No, why would she? You've taken all the attention from her ever since you fell down the drain, that's why she's been working her ass off in school. She's doing it because she pities you; she pities you because now you have nobody to pay attention to you. Amazing how the tables have turned.'_

"That's not true. You don't know that. You don't know anything about me"

' _Do I? I'm pretty sure I do know it's true. Do you know why? It's because we're the same person dummy!'_

"You're not real; you're just a figment of my imagination. You're a voice that only I can hear but can't control."

' _Like grampa?'_ the voice seemingly whines into his ear like a buzzing mosquito.

Impulsively he smacks the annoying whine by his ear while simultaneously trying to turn away. He misses and feels his fingers brush against something cylindrical and plastic before knocking it to the floor with a soft thud and a rattle. He slaps his hand down on it to stop it from rolling.

 _Shit! Did anybody hear that?_

He waits tentatively for the sound of movement and investigating footsteps, nothing; just silence. Guess everybody here were heavy sleepers. Carefully pulling the unknown object closer to his side he picks it up and attempts to make out what it is with his penlight.

 _The bottle of stolen vitamins, I thought I returned those? Did I put them there myself or did Dale leave 'em out? I wonder if he has more than just vitamins in that cabinet._

Carefully he makes his way towards the cabinet where Dale kept all of his pharmaceuticals. With a penlight as his only light source he has to be careful, and he has to be quiet. He knows it's wrong and that he should try to change but he has no other options. It's either this or spend the rest of the night in misery. Luckily the old man had some sleeping pills.

"Sorry Dale,"he whispers as he swallows a pill of Trazodone, "but I just don't see the point in trying to change when everyone's already given up on me."

 _Including myself_

* * *

 **A/N: The mental conversation Nick has with himself is based off similar events from the personal experience of my messed up mind (and others) before taking antidepressants**


	13. Chapter 12

**Oh my gawd! This took forever! It's 10 pages long in my Word processor and had to go through a lot of rewrites and many hours of sleep had to be sacrificed last night to get this one finally done. I especially felt the need to finish it after seeing last night's episode and seeing all this shit going down. Geez good thing this crossover isn't as dark as what's going on in the Fear universe**

* * *

He thought he would feel better after a good night's rest. Guess he was wrong. When he woke the next morning, every joint in his body ached as if the bones had been ground down against concrete, his head kept spinning to the point where he could barely stand straight and had to focus really hard on taking small steady steps to keep himself from falling, and his arm. Good god his arm, it felt like it was on fire!

Every sound he heard made his head throb, and every movement no matter how small, seemed to make his joints ache even more. He needed pain relief and he needed it now dammit! If only one of these stupid cars had what he was looking for.

 _Just keep walking man, just keep walking._

He hears a voice trying to get his attention, most likely a hallucination of his drug-damaged brain.

" _Nicholas?"_

He stops his painful shamble. Somebody just used his full first name, but nobody ever referred to him by that name. Nobody except his father and a few close associates, but his father was dead and the only person here was Dale. How did he not notice the man standing next to him?

"What, man?" he grumbles, wanting to be left alone.

"I asked you how you were feeling just now. Please don't just blow that off."

He mulls the question over in his mind for the right answer. It was a habit he had ingrained into his brain while living on the streets. Fail to be discreet in a drug deal, reveal too much about yourself, show a single sign of weakness and you'd be picked off by someone bigger and meaner than you. Reveling information had to be done with only those you could truly trust, and it had to be done quietly for fear of someone overhearing. But there were limits as to how much information you could tell.

"It hurts real bad." He whispers hoarsely.

 _I can practically feel it throbbing._

"Let me see,"

Dale carefully peels back the bandage on his arm to take a look at it when a sudden sharp pain shoots up his spine. He yelps in shock, it felt like he was being branded with a hot iron.

"Don't touch it!" he hisses painfully, leaning back against a car.

"I'm not gonna touch it, I'm not gonna touch it." The old man reassures.

 _Jeysus, what I'd do for a shot of vodka right now_

"Nicholas, listen," his tone becomes serious, "your wound is heavily infected and the veins are very discolored. You got a hell of an infection there. You could die from blood poisoning."

Nick leans back against a car with a laugh.

"I could die," he laughs, "Wouldn't that be the way? World's gone to shit, the dead rise up to eat the living and the dead will outnumber the living, and Nicholas Clark, former heroin addict gets done in by a fucking cut on his arm."

 _Not from an unclean needle, or an overdose, but from an infected gash on your arm, how ironic._

He bursts into a fit of laughter.

 _How ironic indeed._

"Yes, yes, that would be pretty stupid," the old man repeats, "I've been saying it since yesterday, we've got to get you some antibiotics." He sighs looking around, "We've been ransacking these cars the whole time I can't believe we've not found some ampicillin or something in this whole place. Can you?"

"Seems like there would be." He mumbles, pushing himself to his feet.

"Hell, that's what I think. Well…we just haven't been thorough enough, so let's look some more."

He says nothing but gives the old man a pat on the shoulder in understanding. He would never admit it out loud but personally, he was glad that there was still someone in this world who cared about him.

ϪϪϪϪ

His desperate search for medicine had been worthless, he found nothing but Tylenol and nicotine gum. He would have searched more but when he saw a car seat in the back, all bloody and spattered with gore possibly from a walker having a snack on a defenseless child, he decided it was best to stay away from abandoned cars. There could be walkers hiding in them for all he knew, just waiting for him to unknowingly walk right up to a random vehicle and then BAM! Easy meal.

 _Well, it wasn't completely worthless._

Sitting in the shade of the RV he hastily opened the pack of chewing gum, Nick's hands fumbled with the thin paper wrapping containing the little tablet of gum before popping it into his mouth. It wasn't the same as having a cigarette, but it still served the purpose he was looking for.

Nicotine, sweet, sweet nicotine. Oh how long had it been since he had a cigarette? How long had it been since he had something to drive away the headaches and nerve wracking anxiety? Far too long as from what he could remember.

He notices Dale approaching out of the corner of his eye, carrying a bag with the results of his searching and a guitar. Nice to see the old man was more successful than him.

"Found some more batteries, a bottle of very trendy pink water, an excellent new machete, and" he props the guitar against the vehicles side before sitting down next to him, "I thought Glenn might like this guitar, maybe he plays."

 _Let's hope he plays better than the guys I met in college_

"I didn't find any drugs, you?"

Nick shakes his head in defeat, "Just Tylenol," he holds up the pack of gum, "and this."

"Did you take any?"

He shakes his head, "I can't. There's something in the pills that I'm allergic to. I think they call it acetaminophen or something."

The old man lets out a sigh and rubs his head in irritation.

"Dale, what are we doing?"

Dale shrugs, "We're pulling supplies together."

"No, I mean…what are _we_ _doing_? People off in the woods, looking for that little girl and we're here. Why?"

Dale gives him a confused look; clueless of the situation they're in.

"It's cause they think we're the weakest. I mean, come on what are you, 70?"

"I'm 64."

Nick pops another gum tablet into his mouth, "Uh-huh. And I'm the one delinquent. Realize how precarious that makes my situation?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Nobody wants us hanging with them cause we're liabilities and don't want us slowing 'em down."

"Everyone's going through a tough time right now, what is wrong with you?"

"The whole world is having a tough time, old man." Nick snaps, his voice steadily increasing in volume, "Open your fucking eyes, look where we are. We're stuck here on the side of the road like two damn strays waiting to die!"

Dale quickly shushes him to be quiet, not wanting to risk attracting another walker herd towards the highway.

Nick jumps to his feet to look down on the man and emphasize his point and quickly wishes he hadn't. The sudden change in altitude and heat made him start to feel dizzy and faint. He staggers back and drops to the ground, panting heavily.

"I mean…let's just…let's just go…let's just take the RV…and go."

"You've gone off the deep end."

"No…I mean it…let's just go…you n' me…before they get back."

Dale stands and raises his hand; Nick flinches in response and squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself for receiving a smack across the face for thinking of such selfish actions. He feels a calloused hand gently place itself on his forehead, he opens his eyes just a crack to see that the old man wasn't intending to hurt him, he was just showing concern.

"Oh my god, you're burning up!" he exclaims before rifling through his bag of looted supplies. "We've got to keep you hydrated and knock that fever down." He hands him a bottle of what might have been a sports drink.

It had been nearly five hours since Rick and the others split up to look for Sophia, they should've found her and returned by now but still hadn't seen or heard a word from either parties.

 _Where the hell is everyone?_

ϪϪϪϪ

Andrea tried her best not to complain as she wiped another invisible spider web off her face. She was getting tired of being in these hot and humid woods; she wanted to be back in the RV with the air condition on at full blast. Oh god what a relief that would be.

"How much farther?" she asks.

"Not much," Daryl answers, "Maybe a hundred yards as the crow flies."

"Too bad we're not crows." She grumbles, distancing herself from the main group, the trail was getting narrow and would force everyone into a tight huddle slowing their progress. She didn't want to slow down; she wanted to get out of these god-forsaken woods. She was tired of walking through spider webs and passing the same looking tree after tree that gave off the illusion that they were walking in circles.

 _We'd be out of here faster if we were crows._

" _As the crow flies, my ass"_ she scoffs.

A guttural growl catches her attention; she turns to see that she had wandered too far from the group and right into a walker's path. She screams in fear and tries to run from its outstretched hands.

 _None of this would be happening if I had my gun and could just shoot the damn thing!_

Her foot snags on an upturned tree root, before she can register where her feet are placed she trips and falls flat on her back. The walker looks even bigger now and she feels like a mouse staring up at a cat, she backpedals away as fast as she can and attempts to kick it away when it gets too close only for the corpse to grab at her ankles. Her screams become hysteric.

All it took was one bite and it would be over for her.

She could see the rest of her "friends" making their way towards her. They were too far away, they'd never make it in time.

 _This isn't how it's supposed to end. It was supposed to be calm and peaceful, not torn apart by some drooling freak! Someone, anyone, help me!_

She felt the ground vibrate beneath her and turned her head to see a young woman mounted on a horse galloping towards her, baseball bat in hand. Time seemed to slow down before her eyes as both horse and rider fearlessly charged the walker and bashed its skull in with a single swing, knocking the freak to the ground.

 _What just-? Who is this?_

"Lori?" the nameless rider calls out, "Lori Grimes?"

Lori steps forward cautiously, "Yes? I'm Lori."

"Rick sent me. You've got to come now."

"What?"

"There's been an accident. Carl's been shot, he's still alive but you've got to come now"

 _Who is this girl? How does she know us? And what do you mean Carl's been shot?_

Hearing the words of " _Carl's been shot, come now"_ set a look of panic on her face. Her son? Shot? How? She doesn't bother for another explanation Lori shrugs off her backpack and makes her way to her escort. Daryl attempts to stop her.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, we don't know this girl. You can't get on that horse!"

His arguing falls on deaf ears. If Rick sent this girl then she must know him in some way, and if she said it was urgent then she didn't need to waste her time standing around while her son was in trouble.

The nameless rider turns to Glenn, "Rick said you had others on the highway, that big traffic snarl?"

"Uh…yeah"

"Backtrack to Fairburn Road, two miles down is our farm, you'll see the mailbox. The name is Greene." She instructs before turning and kicks the horse into a gallop leaving the remainder of the search party far behind.

* * *

"I won't do it," Carol shakes her head; "We can't just leave."

"Carol," Dale reminds her, "The group is split, and we're scattered and weak."

"What if she comes back and we're not here? It could happen."

Maddison agrees, "If Sophia found her way back and saw that we were gone, that would be awful."

Daryl chews his lip in thought, "Okay. We got to plan for this; I say tomorrow morning is soon enough to pull up stakes. Give us a chance to rig up a big sign and leave some supplies. I'll hold here tonight, stay with the R.V."

"If the R.V. stays then I'm staying too." Dale adds.

Madison shrugs, "Well, if you're staying then I guess we're all stay-"

Dale cuts her off, "Not you, Maddie, you're going. You take Carol's Cherokee-"

"Excuse me?"

"You have to find this farm, reconnect with our people and see what's going on. But most important, you have to get your boy there. This is not an option. That cut has gone from bad to worse he has a very serious infection. Get him to that farm see if they have any antibiotics because if not, your son will die no joke."

She scoffs, "If I had a bottle of scotch for every time I heard someone tell me that my son might die, I'd be able to host my own frat party."

"How can you say that? He's your son."

"He's an adult he can take care of himself."

Glenn sighs, "Oh my god. Stop arguing, fine I'll go."

"No, she's going with him. We need someone who has a detailed medical history for these people. Up until today I didn't even know he had allergies."

"Fine, if it'll make you happy Alicia can go with them."

Daryl returns with a bag of what appeared to be bottles of medication, "Why'd you wait till now to say anything, I got my brothers stash right here. Got crystal, X, but don't need that. I got some kick-ass painkillers and Oxycycline. It's not the generic stuff either, its first class"

He tosses the bottles over to Glenn and Alicia.

Alicia unscrews the cap and offers her brother a tiny white pill in the palm of her hand. He looks at it before pushing her hand away from his face.

"I don't want any pills _._ " Nick grumbles, "There's no point in that, I'm dying, and why waste medicine on a dying rat?"

"You're not going to die." She reassures him.

"How do you know that?"

"Because you're my brother, you're too stubborn to die. You've been through shit to get this far, you are not going to die on me now."

"Why do you suddenly give a shit about me?" he snaps, a defiant glare in his eye.

Her patience grows thin, "Nick just take the fucking pill and get in the damn car!"

His expression softens for a moment before giving a defeated sigh and swallows the antibiotic in a single gulp.

"'M sorry for making you yell." He mumbles, shambling his way to the car and crawls into the back seat curling into a fetal position.

"Hey it's okay, you're gonna be okay."

She knew that simply saying that he was "going to be okay" was an understatement. But if it gave him hope that things would get better and that they would be okay, then she'd say as many times as he liked.


End file.
